Life Happens
by Meghan Page
Summary: Life happens when no one is watching. This is especially true for Misty Day and Cordelia Foxx. A look beyond the events on screen, following Misty and Cordelia's relationship as it grows from strangers to friends to maybe something more.
1. Chapter 1

"Whatever troubles you had, they are ours now."

Misty let out a breath, her frantic heart slowing at the woman's words. _Ours_. No one had ever included her in the use of that word. It had always been _this is ours_ and _that is yours_, separating her, cutting her off from the group.

But now, this woman was welcoming her into her world. "This is your house," she said, without a second thought.

A sense of peace washed over Misty, so different from the first time she had visited the academy, when powerful, sinister vibes had made her want to bolt.

The sense of warmth she felt from the woman only increased when she immediately agreed to let her friend stay. It quieted the worry at the back of her mind that the woman was only taking her in because she knew who Misty was and what she could do, and was planning on using her. Misty could tell she truly had a big heart, big enough to take in two complete strangers who needed help.

At least, Misty had assumed they were both strangers. That assumption had proved wrong when her friend called the woman by name. _Cordelia_. Such a pretty name. Refined. It fit the woman well.

Recognizing the nature around her, Misty began puttering around the greenhouse, sprinkling water on the more neglected-looking flowers. Maybe Miss Cordelia would let her help tend the plants that grew there. She supposed it might be difficult to care for so many living things when you couldn't see them.

Behind her, the witches' conversation filtered back into her consciousness. "Behold, our next Supreme," came the voice of her friend; Myrtle, she now knew.

She turned, wondering you they were talking about, only to find everyone's eyes fixed intently on her. She smiled awkwardly, clutching the watering can in her hands.

"Supreme?" she asked tentatively when the tense silence drew on. "What's that?"

"Myrtle, a moment, please," Miss Cordelia murmured, drawing the eccentric woman a side for a hushed but heated conversation. That left Misty to stand there self-consciously, the other girls still staring at her. Zoe and the kind-looking brunette behind her merely gazed at her curiously, but the blond between them, the one she had brought back to life, was glaring daggers at her. Misty took an involuntary step backwards, reaching behind her to slide her fingers across the leaves of the bush behind her, their smooth, cool touch grounding her and giving her confidence.

Suddenly, Myrtle and Miss Cordelia stepped apart, Myrtle rejoining the group of girls while Miss Cordelia turned towards Misty.

"Girls, why don't you go back to your rooms," she said over her shoulder to the little knot of witches. "I'll have a talk with Misty and get her settled."

She paused, allowing the girls to leave the room, then slowly walked towards Misty, her cane tapping in front of her. "Misty?" she queried.

"Yes, ma'am?"

Miss Cordelia turned her face towards her, and Misty realized she was using her voice to orient herself. She stopped in front of her, her hands twisting anxiously on the handle of her cane. "There's so much to tell you, so much you need to know…" she fretted. "I suppose I should start by answering your question."

Misty started. In the awkward silence during the two older witches' conversation, she had almost forgotten she had asked anything. "The Supreme."

"Yes. The Supreme," Miss Cordelia took a breath, seeming to steel herself. "The Supreme is an extremely powerful witch who leads the coven. In fact, she has power over all witches."

"Kinda like a witch queen?" Misty asked, starting to understand.

A small smile crossed Miss Cordelia's lips. "That's right. The Supreme has widespread connections, both within the world of witches and without. There is no door that is not open to her." Her words took on a bitter tone, but she quickly shook it off and smiled again, although this time it was much more strained. "But with all of that power and influence comes great responsibility. The Supreme must care for all of the witches in her coven, making sure no harm comes to them, and that the line continues."

"And… Myrtle thinks I'm gonna be the next Supreme?" Misty asked, her head spinning at the thought of all that power and responsibility.

Miss Cordelia nodded, her brow creasing in worry. Was she concerned that Misty wasn't right for the job? Misty wasn't sure herself.

"Who's the Supreme now?" she inquired.

Miss Cordelia's lips compressed into a thin line, her brow furrowing further. "My mother," she answered. "That's the other thing I need to speak to you about. Fiona… is not a very good Supreme, to put it lightly. Ever since she came into power, she has abused it, using for her own good instead of the good of the coven. Now that her power is declining, she is desperate to reclaim it. She will go to any lengths to do so, even killing anyone she fears may succeed her."

Misty let out a small gasp, the puzzle pieces clicking together. "That's what happened to that girl I brought back."

"Madison? Yes. Fiona slit her throat," confirmed Miss Cordelia, her tone somber. "That's why I think it would be best if you tried to stay out of her sight for as long as possible. But first, we have a ceremony to perform."

Miss Cordelia walked from the greenhouse back to the academy, gesturing for Misty to follow. She led the young woman through the house to a grand room with a huge fireplace. The other witches were already there; Myrtle was busy shaking out bright red cloaks from an antique trunk and laying them over the girls' shoulders. Miss Cordelia left Misty to be dressed by Myrtle while Zoe helped her on with her own robe.

The heavy fabric and rich colors of the cloaks reminded Misty of illustrations of royalty she had seen in her picture books as a little girl.

"I feel like a queen," she said happily as Myrtle draped the cape over her shoulders.

As she fastened the tie around her neck and tried to arrange the funny black veil over her head, she listened to Miss Cordelia explain the other girls bicker over who was really going to be the next Supreme.

"Being the Supreme isn't something to wish for," chastised Miss Cordelia, drawing Misty out of her examination of the lacey veil. "It's not a gift, it's a burden. How many of these women had happy lives?" Misty's eyes darted to the portraits on the walls, taking in the many women's faces. "They had power, but with it came the crushing responsibility of the coven. They all bowed under the weight, except my mother, who ran from it."

"Can I say something?" Misty asked breathlessly. "I don't wanna be the Supreme." Miss Cordelia had explained to her the responsibility of such power, but to hear it so bluntly made her really understand what a burden it was.

"Nobody gets to choose," Miss Cordelia said plainly. "When Fiona dies, whoever it is, will be."

She drew her veil over her face, and the rest of the circle followed suit. Calling for them to join hands, she began the ritual.

First, they blew into each other's mouths, transferring energy around the circle. Then, they passed the ceremonial dagger from witch to witch, each of them slicing a small cut into their index finger. That done, they held their fingers into the center of the circle, allowing the blood to drip to the floor. Finally, they pressed their palms back together, tipping their heads back and raising their joined hands between them.

Apparently, that concluded the ceremony, for as soon as they dropped their hands, the girls were arguing again. Madison pointed out that the ceremony would be useless unless Fiona killed herself, something she was unlikely to do.

"Not without a push," Miss Cordelia replied, and left it at that.

After that the circle broke up quickly, the girls disappearing to their separate rooms. Myrtle reverently folded the cloaks back into their trunk and dragged it back off to wherever it was stored.

Finally the only two left were Misty and Miss Cordelia. Misty fidgeted awkwardly, unsure of what to do know that the ritual was over.

"Um, Miss Cordelia?" she asked tentatively. "Where do I go know? I don't really feel safe goin' back to the swamp, not with that man out there."

"No, of course not," the older witch assured her. "The room next to mine is empty now; you can sleep in there. For what small protection that will give you." Her mouth twisted ruefully.

"You're a powerful witch," Misty asserted. "I'd feel safer sleeping next to you than anywhere else in the house."

Miss Cordelia laughed, but the sound was devoid of any real amusement. "Me? Powerful? Hardly."

"Yes you are," insisted Misty. "You knew exactly who I was and what happened to me, even though you couldn't see me."

"The Second Sight? Yes, it can be useful, but I'd hardly be able to use it to save your life if your were in immediate danger, would I?" The older witch turned away, hiding her face as if she were ashamed. "All I can really do is brew these potions, and even that isn't very helpful. I'm hopeless."

Misty reached out, careful to only touch the other woman's shoulder where it was covered by her sleeve. From the way she had taken her hand in the hall, Misty could tell Miss Cordelia's powers were brought on by skin-to-skin contact, and she didn't want to disturb the woman with more unwanted visions.

"No, Miss Cordelia, you're not hopeless. I can see how much you care, how hard you work to protect those girls. You've got a kind of deep inner strength, that much I can tell."

Miss Cordelia shrugged out of her grasp, seemingly unconvinced by Misty's words. Turning towards the door, she began walking, swinging her cane from side to side in front of her.

"Follow me," she called over her shoulder. "I'll take you to your room. We'll retrieve the rest of your belongings tomorrow, when we can be sure the area is safe."

Misty trotted after her, having no choice but to follow, feeling troubled by this woman's poor view of herself. Couldn't she tell she was one of the most powerful witches in this house? Misty resolved that she would do whatever she could to convince her new friend of this fact.


	2. Chapter 2

Misty listened to the sound of birds chirping outside her window. She had been restless last night, missing the sounds of Stevie singing and cicadas buzzing, and had risen before the sun. Around her she could feel nature waking up, and, crossing to her door, hoped that Miss Cordelia had already done the same.

Padding the few short feet down the hall, Misty raised her fist and knocked tentatively at Miss Cordelia's door. "Miss Cordelia? Are you awake?" she called softly.

Behind the door, she could her the tap of Miss Cordelia's cane as she approached, then the soft scrabble of her fingers on the door as she sought the doorknob. Finally, the door swung open, revealing Miss Cordelia, already dressed in a beautiful green dress adorned with a curling black pattern and a sheer black lace collar.

"Good morning, Misty," she said softly, a small smile playing at her lips. "You're up early."

"Couldn't sleep. Too quiet without the sounds of the swamp." Putting her hands on her hips, she asked in mock reproach, "And what's your excuse, ma'am?"

Miss Cordelia's smile grew. "The same. My mind just wouldn't turn off." Suddenly she grew serious. "I suppose you'd like to retrieve your things now."

Misty hadn't even been thinking about that. "Oh, well, yeah, that'd be nice. I miss Stevie."

"Stevie?" Miss Cordelia asked, perplexed.

"Stevie Nicks. I left all of her tapes behind," explained Misty. Miss Cordelia nodded, her brow smoothing in understanding. "But that's actually not what I wanted to ask you."

Miss Cordelia waited, her eyes conveying a certain openness even through their blindness. "I was wonderin'… if you'd let me help you in your greenhouse. I'm real good with plants, and it'd make me feel better about intrudin' on your hospitality…"

"Misty," Miss Cordelia said, quieting the younger witch with a smile, "You're not intruding anywhere. I've told you, this house is your home, too, for as long as you want it." She reached out towards Misty's arm, but drew her hand back before she made contact. Misty wished that there were a way for them to touch without worrying about setting off another vision. She remembered the way Miss Cordelia's hands had been so soft and warm in her own when Miss Cordelia had used the contact to learn Misty's identity. She wanted to feel their touch again.

"But in regards to the greenhouse," the older woman continued, "I'd love it if you helped me."

A huge grin spread across Misty's face. "Oh, Miss Cordelia, thank you, thank you!" She clutched her shawl around her, bouncing a bit in happiness. "You won't be sorry, I promise!"

Miss Cordelia laughed, retrieving a simple black cardigan from her bed and shrugging it on. "I don't think I'd ever be sorry to have you around." She emerged into the hall, Misty hurriedly moving back to give her space, and closed the door behind her. "But before we start the day, how would you feel about some scrambled eggs for breakfast?"

"That'd be heavenly," Misty sighed, following closely behind Miss Cordelia as she descended the stairs, the woman's hand gripping the railing as she slowly lowered one foot after the other.

"And then we can go get your things. I want you to be as comfortable as possible here, and I always think having some familiar belongings around helps ease the transition to somewhere new."

"Thank you, Miss Cordelia," Misty said as sincerely as she could. "You're really too kind to me."

Miss Cordelia paused at the foot of the stairs, turning to face Misty. As Misty was still a few stairs up, she ended up staring at her stomach. For some reason, Misty found it incredibly endearing.

"I'm only doing my job," the other woman asserted, although the way the corner of her mouth turned up in the ghost of a smile told Misty that wasn't entirely the truth. "Why don't you wait in the greenhouse, and I'll bring breakfast out when it's done?"

Misty smiled, recognizing Miss Cordelia's attempts to keep her hidden from Fiona. "Alright," she agreed skipping down the last few steps. "Just don't take too long, I'm famished."

As she spun past, she heard Miss Cordelia chuckle softly, and her heart lightened at giving the woman even that split second of happiness.

After what seemed like half the morning, Miss Cordelia finally emerged trough the door of the greenhouse, carrying a tray bearing two plates. Instead of containing eggs, however, the plates were piled high with pieces of toast, cut into triangles and slathered with butter and jam.

"Hey, Miss Cordelia," Misty called, setting down her watering can and joining the witch at her worktable.

"I'm so sorry I took so long," the other woman apologized immediately, a bitter undertone to her voice. "I knocked the eggs off the counter. Broke them all." She unloaded the tray carefully, setting a plate in front of each of them. "Managed not to screw up the toast, though."

Determined not to let her friend wallow in self-pity, Misty took a huge bite of toast with jam. It was cooked to perfection, crunchy without turning dry. The taste of strawberries exploded across her tongue, tart and fresh.

"My god," she mumbled around the mouthful. "This is delicious. Toasted just right. And is that fresh strawberry jam?"

Miss Cordelia blushed, ducking her head slightly. "I make it myself."

Misty nodded, stuffing more toast into her mouth. "You sure know how to cook, Miss Cordelia. This is the best breakfast I've ever had."

"Thank you," Miss Cordelia said softly.

"No, thank you," Misty replied.

Both women knew neither was referring solely to the simple breakfast.

They both finished quickly, although Miss Cordelia left several pieces of toast on her plate while Misty all but licked hers clean. The fact didn't escape the young witch, although she held back from commenting. She could tell that the older woman had a lot to worry about at the moment, and figured that she wouldn't have much of an appetite if she had to deal with it all on her own, either.

"Well." Miss Cordelia stood, smoothing her skirt and collecting her cane. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes, ma'am," replied Misty, jumping to her feet.

"The swamp's a half-hour away on foot," she explained as they exited the greenhouse. "Although I might know a shortcut that would cut it down to twenty minutes…"

"Oh, no, dear, don't worry about that. We're taking the car, of course."

Misty was struck by Miss Cordelia's use of the term of endearment, by the way it slipped off the woman's tongue. She thought about pointing it out, but felt too nervous to do so. The other witch probably wasn't even conscious of saying it, being used to referring to the other girls in the same way.

The ride out to the swamp was filled with a comfortable, friendly silence as they relaxed in the backseat of the car, a silent, albino man doing the driving, only broken by occasional, disjointed comments or observations of the scenery flashing by.

They had to stop a few minutes away from the cabin, the swamp too treacherous to drive through in the car. The two witches got out and slowly made their way through the reeds, Miss Cordelia grasping Misty's elbow where it was covered by her shawl for balance.

Suddenly, they emerged from the rushes into an organized chaos: Misty's garden. In front of them stood her small cabin, its weathered boards looking just the same as when she left… just yesterday. Had it really been such a short interval? It felt like a lifetime.

Miss Cordelia had come to a stop beside her, and turned her face toward her in silent confusion.

"We're here," Misty breathed, leading her farther into the garden. "This is my home."

Miss Cordelia let out a soft, short breath at her words, but Misty hardly noticed. She whirled away down the pathway, calling as she went, "Stevie! I've come back for you!"

As soon as she passed through the door she ran to her bedside table, where she kept all her Stevie Nicks tapes. Wrenching open the drawer, she ran her fingers over the cassettes, sighing in relief at seeing them unharmed. Kyle had destroyed her tape player, but she was sure she could find another somewhere.

Behind her she heard the tap of Miss Cordelia's heels on the boards of the porch, then a sharp, ragged gasp. She spun to see Miss Cordelia frozen in the doorway, her hand on the frame.

Jumping up, she rushed to the witch's side, her hands hovering over her shoulder, unsure if she should touch her. She prayed that the woman wasn't seeing the night the man had come to kill her. She didn't want that darkness to be the first impression Miss Cordelia got of her beautiful home.

Suddenly, the witch's head dropped forward, and when she lifted it again, Misty saw her cheeks were flushed.

"What'd you see, Miss Cordelia? Was it that man?"

"No, nothing like that," she said, turning her blind eyes around the room as if she could see it. "I saw your home. It's… beautiful." She turned her face back towards Misty, and the swamp witch could have sworn she could really see her. "And you're beautiful in it," she added softly, her blush growing as a small smile crossed her lips.

"Thank you," Misty replied simply, gazing around the room for herself. "I know it ain't much, but it's all I had for a long time."

She stood there for a moment, lost in memories, then lightly touched the small of Miss Cordelia's back to guide her towards the small table with its rickety chair.

"You just sit right here, and I'll get myself all packed up."

Miss Cordelia silently obeyed, sitting with her face turned toward where she could hear Misty's movements.

Misty pulled a medium-sized steamer trunk from under her bed, thumping it down on top and throwing open the lid. She pulled the colorful quilt from under it and piled it inside, then crossed to her small wardrobe. Opening the doors, she gathered her small collection of dresses and shawls and tossed them haphazardly in the trunk. Next, she carefully scooped her Stevie Nicks tapes out of their drawer and transferred them to a small wicker basket, delicately nestling it among the pile of clothes. Trying to decide if there was anything else she needed to bring, her eyes landed on the little mason jars of swamp mud she kept lined up against the wall. Wrapping them in a few of her rattier shawls so they wouldn't break, she carefully placed the bundle in the trunk as well. Taking one last look around and deciding the rest could be left, she let the lid fall with a resounding thud, clicking the clasps closed.

"That's everything, Miss Cordelia," she announced, rousing the woman to stand. "You ready?"

It took some doing, but they managed to get the trunk through the tall reeds back to the car.

They left the albino man to stow the trunk in the rear of the car, collapsing into their seats.

"Phew," Misty exhaled, sagging back into her seat. She turned her face towards Miss Cordelia, who was resting with her head tilted back against the headrest, her eyes closed.

"Thanks for bringing me today," she said. "You're right, I do feel better now that I've got my stuff."


	3. Chapter 3

The two witches entered the house, Misty awkwardly dragging her trunk behind her. Before they had taken three steps, however, Miss Cordelia was greeted rather exuberantly by Myrtle.

"Cordelia, lovely girl, I have such wonderful news for you!" she crowed. "Can you shake your new charge for just a few moments? There's something I need to do for you."

Miss Cordelia turned back to Misty, who let the trunk thump to the ground. "Will you be alright on your own for a little while?"

"Sure thing, Miss Cordelia. I'll just get to unpacking my things," she said, gesturing down at her trunk.

As Miss Cordelia turned away, though, she called her back. "Oh, hold on!" Miss Cordelia turned, her eyebrows raised in question. "D'you have a tape player I can use? My old one… broke," she finished lamely, not sure if anyone other than she and Zoe knew about Kyle yet.

"I have just the thing, my dear abraidener," it was Myrtle who answered. "I have a tape player I use to listen to my recordings of Tibetian monk chants. I find they steady my nerves stupendously. It's sitting on the kitchen counter at this very moment."

"Oh, uh, thanks," Misty said, but Myrtle was already guiding Miss Cordelia down the hall and up the stairs. Sighing, she dragged her trunk after them, making a small detour to the kitchen to retrieve the tape player.

After much effort, she finally made it up the stairs and into her room. Swinging the trunk up onto her bed, she flopped down beside it, needing a minute to recoup.

When she had caught her breath, she opened the lid of her trunk and began pulling her belongings out. Reverently pulling out her basket of Stevie Nicks tapes, she picked one at random and popped it in the tape player. The sound of "Gypsy" filled the room, immediately lifting Misty's spirits. Singing along to the relaxed song, she made her way through her clothes, hanging her dresses in the small closet and putting everything else in the wardrobe. She drew out her quilt, throwing it over the blank white sheets on her bed, then stored the trunk underneath. Pulling out a crocheted white shawl with long fringe, one of her favorites, she practiced her twirl in front of the freestanding mirror, letting Stevie's music fill her soul.

After several songs had started and ended, Misty realized that Miss Cordelia had been gone for a while. Myrtle had said only a few moments, although that could really mean any length of time. Still, she was worried.

She left her room, padding the few feet down the hall to Miss Cordelia's. As she reached for the doorknob, a vibe hit her, the sense that there was something important and powerful going on inside. Suspecting it would be best to leave her friend alone for now, she decided to go down to the greenhouse to wait.

Detouring back to her room to retrieve her jars of swamp mud and tape player, she slowly made her way down the stairs and out the back door, feeling a little jumpy without Miss Cordelia. She decided to stow the jars in the back room of the greenhouse, where they would stay nice and cool.

Placing the tape player on Miss Cordelia's little desk, she pressed play, allowing Stevie's marvelous voice to echo through the room. Singing along, she danced among the potted plants, swinging the water can after her, giving her resurrection magic to the ones that looked like they needed it.

Suddenly, she heard someone calling her name. "Misty? Misty!" came Miss Cordelia's voice from near the house. "Are you out here?"

Misty peeked around the edge of the door, catching sight of Miss Cordelia striding across the lawn.

"There you are!" the woman called as Misty stepped into the doorway, and it hit Misty that she could see her. Miss Cordelia could see!

The older witch took several running steps towards her and grabbed her hands. Misty froze in place, stunned at everything taking place before her. Miss Cordelia was standing in front of her, holding her hands in her small, warm ones, looking at her – really looking at her! – with mismatched eyes of deep brown and clear blue.

"Miss Cordelia," she breathed, gently freeing one of her hands and bringing it up to the woman's face, feathering her fingers over fine cheekbones. "Your eyes…"

"Myrtle did them," she explained, bringing her own hands up to trace over her lids. "I didn't even know, not until she'd already started the spell."

The two women were silent for a minute, sharing awestruck smiles. Then Miss Cordelia reached out, tucking an errant strand of hair behind Misty's ear.

"You're even more beautiful in person," she said quietly, then blushed furiously as she realized what had just come out of her mouth.

Misty just grinned, taking the witch's hand and leading her into the greenhouse. "You're not too bad yourself," she returned, and saw Miss Cordelia flush an even deeper shade of crimson.

She left Miss Cordelia by the worktable and wound among the plants, trailing her fingers over their leaves. "I did some waterin' and brought back some of the plants that didn't look too good. Oh, and I brought down some of the swamp mud I brought from home. I figured it might come in handy sometime."

Miss Cordelia smiled, her eyes tracking Misty as she meandered around the greenhouse, primping and sniffing at flowers as she went. "I actually have an idea for how to put it to good use." She handed Misty a small metal pail. "Why don't you get some, and I'll get the rest of the ingredients out."

Misty nodded, taking the pail into the back room. As she scooped mud out of a jar with her fingers, she listened to Miss Cordelia move around her space. Just by listening, Misty could tell she was much more confident now that her eyesight was restored, from the steady tap of her shoes as she walked to the clink of phials as she rummaged through them, no longer worried about accidentally upsetting one.

She emerged back into the main room, pausing a moment in the doorway to just watch the other woman. It was a relief to see her moving around freely, without so much effort accompanying her every action.

Miss Cordelia turned, a blender in her arms, and caught sight of the younger witch in the doorway.

Waving her over, she said, "Come on, I want to show you a little mixture you can make for protection."

She spooned the mud into the blender, then started added different herbs and leaves, explaining their uses. As they worked, Stevie continued to play in the background, Misty intermittently humming or singing along.

Some of the ingredients they used were totally foreign to her, but others, like bay leaves, Misty recognized.

"I didn't know bay leaves had magic in 'em," she commented as she tossed them in the blender.

"They provide protection," Miss Cordelia told her. She sprinkled something from her mortar bowl over the mixture, clarifying, "Asafetida. Banishes evil."

Misty leaned over the blender, sniffing at the goop inside. She quickly pulled back as its stench filled her nostrils. "Oh wow, that's some stinky shit," she observed, making them both laugh.

"Now you never use this," Miss Cordelia told Misty, becoming serious once more, "unless under extreme circumstances."

Misty nodded gravely.

Miss Cordelia scooped some of the mixture up with a wooden spoon and spread it around the base of the shriveled plant in front of them. Misty was eager to try out the new magic, and asked if she could read the spell.

"Go for it," Miss Cordelia said, leaning in and grinning.

Misty grinned back and grabbed the little notecard with the spell written on it off the desk. She read the incantation slowly, the words rolling strangely in her mouth. As she finished, she looked expectantly at the plant, but nothing happened.

"Stronger intent," instructed Miss Cordelia.

Misty took a step forward, focusing all of her attention on the plant in front of her, willing it to heal. This time, as she read the spell, she felt a power stirring within her, and the plant stirred, its leaves perking up and turning green, small purple flowers blooming along the stems.

"Damn! That is so cool!" Misty exclaimed. She held her hands up for a double high-five, and Miss Cordelia happily obliged.

Grabbing their hands as they came down, Miss Cordelia pulled Misty closer. "We make a great team," she said, and Misty could only smile, speechless with the overwhelming sense of _belonging_ she felt.

Miss Cordelia plucked a bright red berry from the bush, saying, "Now we need to make some more of this. For everyone." She popped the berry in her mouth and Misty followed suit, enjoying its tartness as it burst across her tongue. "Go get more of that mud back there," the older witch instructed fondly, handing Misty the bucket to refill.

As she turned to go, Misty paused briefly in the doorway, spinning back towards the other woman.

"You're such an awesome leader, Miss Cordelia," she told her. "I've got so much to learn from you."

"Fiona is the leader of this coven," Miss Cordelia corrected, but Misty just twisted her mouth, unsure about that assertion.

She made her way into the back room and was scooping mud when she heard Miss Cordelia's voice, followed by a man's low reply. She grabbed up the bucket and tiptoed to the door, pressing her body to the wall as she peered into the main room.

She was surprised to find Cordelia wrapped in the arms of a strange man with dark hair and a tan hunting jacket. As she watched, she saw Miss Cordelia's eyes close and her face soften briefly, then harden as she pushed the man away.

"You're drunk," she accused, and it was true; even from where she was standing, Misty could smell the stink of alcohol on him.

Miss Cordelia turned away in disgust when he admitted it, saying he needed the courage to come back. Misty flinched when he grabbed Miss Cordelia's face and jerked it back towards him, distressed by his rough treatment of her friend. He spouted some pretty sentiments about bleeding hearts and living hells and how his life had no meaning without Miss Cordelia, but she could see the witch didn't believe a word.

"What will it take, Delia?" he pleaded.

"More than you've got," Miss Cordelia ground out between her teeth.

Unable to stay hidden any longer, Misty emerged from behind the doorframe, her face held carefully neutral.

"Who's this?" the man demanded.

"Hey," she said casually. "I'm Misty."

A strange look passed over the man's face, and his voice became strangled. "Can we have this conversation in private, please?"

Misty bowed her head slightly and took a few steps away, thinking that maybe she should have stayed back, but Miss Cordelia stopped her.

"Don't leave, Misty," the witch said sharply, and Misty immediately turned back. "She and I have much bigger concerns than this conversation," she told the man. "I've told you how I feel. Now take your stuff, and leave."

Misty watched Miss Cordelia's face as she was talking, her heart clenching at the obvious pain her friend was feeling.

"No, I'm not going anywhere," the man protested, his voice rising to a shout. "I'm your husband, this is my home."

"Not anymore," Miss Cordelia replied, keeping her tone flat. "I've spoken to a lawyer, I'm filing for divorce."

"That's bullshit!" the man bellowed, causing Miss Cordelia to flinch. Misty stared him down, waiting for him to make a move towards her friend.

The man tried to explain how he had only ever wanted to protect Miss Cordelia, but she just smiled a hollow smile of disbelief.

"Your shit's in a box in the closet," she said. "Get it, and then get out."

They watched the man's receding back until he left the greenhouse, then Miss Cordelia whirled back to her desk, supporting herself with her hands splayed and elbows locked.

Her shoulders began to shake, and Misty flew to her side, her hand smoothing calming circles along her spine.

"No, no, don't cry, Cordelia, don't cry," she implored, bending down to try to see the woman's face.

Cordelia looked up, tears leaking from her mismatched eyes. "I can't help it," she murmured. Suddenly she stood, pulling away from Misty's arms. "Why do I destroy everything I touch?" she sobbed. "It's all my fault. Maybe if I did more for him, was better for him, then he wouldn't have felt the need to go to another woman…"

"No!" Misty blurted in outrage, shocking Cordelia out of her narrative of self-blame. "This is _not_ your fault. If that bastard thinks he can find any woman out there better than you, he is sorely mistaken."

Cordelia wrapped one arm around her middle, using the other to wipe at her cheeks. "That's very kind of you to say, but –"

"No," Misty repeated, more softly but no less fervently. She grabbed Cordelia's hands, giving them a little shake. "I ain't just sayin' it to be nice. You're the kindest, smartest, most lovin' person I've ever met. There ain't ever been anyone like you, and there never will be again. That man was damn lucky to have you, and if he couldn't recognize that, he didn't deserve to keep you."

For a minute, Cordelia just stood there in stunned silence, staring at Misty as she breathed hard in front of her. Finally, she looked down at her feet, wiping away a last wayward tear. "Thank you," she said softly but genuinely.

Misty took a step back, nodding, content to know that Cordelia had accepted her words, at least for the moment.

"You know," the older witch said after a short silence, "that's the first time you haven't called me 'Miss' since you got here,"

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry, that's so impolite, and at a time like this…" Misty began, but Cordelia interrupted.

"No, don't apologize," she said with a small smile and a blush. "I like it."

"Alright then… Cordelia," Misty replied, testing it out for the first time consciously. She decided she liked how it felt in her mouth. "Why don't we put on a kettle to boil? I can make a mean chamomile tea with honey."


	4. Chapter 4

Still in a bit of a reverie, Misty skipped up the stairs. _Stevie Nicks_, she kept thinking. _Stevie Nicks was here, and I saw her, and she gave me her shawl, and I_ hugged _her_.

After she had woken from her faint with her hero hovering over her, the whole morning had felt like one long, surreal, wonderful dream. She just had to tell Cordelia about it.

She hadn't seen the older witch at all that morning, so Misty went looking for her. After trying the greenhouse and coming up empty, she decided to check Cordelia's bedroom.

Realizing that the woman had been through a lot yesterday and might still be asleep, Misty knocked on the door gently.

"Cordelia?" she called softly. When she got no reply, she started to become a little worried. She tried the doorknob, and, when it offered no resistance, slowly swung the door open.

The room was shrouded in darkness, the curtains drawn against the midday sun.

"Cordelia?" Misty called again, letting some of her concern color her voice.

"Not now, Misty, please." Cordelia's muffled voice came from her bed. Misty could just make out her figure as she turned over, away from the door.

"It's awful dark in here," Misty said, slowly approaching the bed. "Are you okay?"

"I said not now!" Cordelia hissed, sitting bolt upright, her newly repaired eyes flashing in the darkness.

Misty stumbled backward, shocked at the harshness in the other woman's tone. "I- I'm sorry, Miss Cordelia," she stuttered, her voice thick as tears began to fill her eyes. "I just came in to see if you were alright…"

She turned to go, but stopped when she heard Cordelia call.

"Misty, dear, wait," she said. "I didn't – Please don't go."

She reached out to Misty, who immediately took her hand and sat down at the edge of the bed. Now that she was closer, she could see that Cordelia's eyes were puffy and red from crying, and immediately forgave her sharp dismissal. It was clear from her face that she was in emotional turmoil.

Also clear was an angry red mark on her cheek. Misty clicked on the bedside lamp, throwing the mark into sharp relief. It looked suspiciously like a handprint. She reached out to touch it, but Cordelia flinched away before she could.

"Are you alright? Did someone hit you?" she asked, unable to entire keep the anger out of her voice.

"It's nothing, it's just –" Cordelia broke off when Misty glared at her skeptically. "My mother," she admitted, ignoring Misty's sharp gasp. "I deserved it. I led a killer to our doorstep."

"What're you talkin' about?" she demanded, her outrage at Fiona still coloring her words.

"Hank. My… husband." Cordelia seemed to have to force the word out. "He killed everyone in Marie Laveau's salon last night. I thought he wanted to be a hero, to prove he could protect me, but then Marie told me the truth." She paused, taking a few steadying breaths. "He was a witch hunter. All this time I thought he loved me, all he wanted to do was kill me, kill us all."

Tears began to stream down her face, her breath hitching after every other word. Misty took her hands, rubbing soothing circles on them with her thumbs.

"I should have known," she sobbed, ducking her chin, her shoulders shaking. "Fiona was right. I acted selfishly, I brought a killer into our home –"

Misty dropped Cordelia's hands and grabbed her shoulders, causing Cordelia's head to snap back up.

"You're not selfish!" she cried, her rage at Fiona threatening to boil over. "You were in love! How could you know he was a witch hunter when no one else could see it, neither?"

"Because I was married to him, for Christ's sake!" Cordelia yelled back. "I lived with him, I slept with him! I should have seen something was wrong, that his kindness was just a façade."

"Sometimes that's just not possible," Misty said flatly, thinking of the long line of people who had pretended to be her friend just to use her. "Sometimes people're just too good at hidin' what's beneath the surface."

Cordelia hiccupped, visibly forcing herself to calm down. "I have to figure out who he really was. I have to find the other hunters."

"Are you sure, Cordelia?" asked Misty warily, worried about how digging into her husband's lie would affect her. "Maybe it'd be good if you just left it for a bit…"

"No," Cordelia said firmly, squaring her shoulders and tamping down her feelings. "I have to prove to Marie and Fiona that I'm not useless, that I can do something to help this coven."

Brusquely wiping her eyes, she snatched up her laptop from the bedside table. She powered it on and brought up a Google search, but then stopped short, staring at the blinking cursor in the search field.

"I don't even know where to begin," she murmured. Turning to Misty, she beseeched her with her eyes. "Will you help me?"

"Of course," Misty agreed, unable to refuse. After thinking for a moment, she asked, "So what do you know about him?"

"His name was Hank Foxx, and he was a contractor," answered Cordelia. "Of course, that's probably all a lie, anyways."

Misty pondered that, her brow furrowed in thought. "So we can't search anything about him, 'cause that'll just turn up dead ends." Suddenly, she had a flash of inspiration. "What about his picture? He can't change how he looks, unless he had some big surgery."

Cordelia's eyes lit up in anticipation. "That's right! And Google lets you search by image now…" As she spoke, she opened a folder on her desktop and pulled up a picture of Hank. Cropping it to just his face, she entered it into the search engine.

The paged filled with images, most of them only "visually similar" pictures of men's faces. However, halfway down the page, Misty saw one that jumped out.

"There!" she said, pointing, and Cordelia clicked to enlarge it. As the image filled the screen, the women saw a photograph of two men in a very formal pose, the older man sitting with the younger standing beside him, his arm on the back of the chair. The man standing was unmistakably Hank. But the other…

"Who's that?" Misty asked.

Cordelia scrolled down to see the caption. "CEO of Delphi Trust, Harrison Renard," she read aloud, "with his… son, Henry." Her voice lowered so the last two words were barely audible.

"Cordelia…" Misty breathed.

"His son," Cordelia repeated. "Hank told me his parents died." She looked back at the picture, staring as if she meant to memorize it. "This man is my father-in-law."

She shook her head slightly, as if shaking herself from a trance, and clicked out of the picture. "I have to find out more about this company. It's probably a front for the witch hunting."

As she researched, Misty watched her face. She was in awe of this woman, who put aside her shattered heart to try to help protect the coven. She had been right; Cordelia was the true leader of this coven. What was Fiona doing about this whole mess? Probably nothing. She was probably sitting downstairs right now, smoking a cigarette and waiting for Cordelia to figure it all out.

The thought made Misty want to grab Cordelia's hands, to stop her from finding anything else and reporting it to Fiona, but she stopped herself. This was as much for Cordelia herself as anyone else - a way to let herself feel useful and begin to heal.

Finally, Cordelia stopped typing and placed her laptop at the end of the bed. "I think that's everything," she said, turning back to face Misty. "I've found out all I can about Bernard Renard and Delphi Trust."

"Good," Misty replied simply, comforted by how much calmer Cordelia seemed.

"Thank you," Cordelia said softly, laying her hand on Misty's arm. "You've been such a comfort to me since you got here. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"It's me who should be thankin' you," Misty responded, her heart pounding at the other witches words and the touch of her hand. "You've been so kind to me ever since we first met, makin' me feel comfortable and safe here when I had nowhere else to go."

Cordelia just smiled, smoothing her hand up and down Misty's arm. Her eyes softened as an unfamiliar emotion began to fill them, but before Misty could identify it, she turned away.

She stood quickly, grabbing her laptop from the foot of the bed. "I'm going to show this to Fiona," she said.

Looking down to where Misty still sat on the bed, who was already feeling the chill of the other woman's absence, she reached out towards Misty's face and tucked a flyaway hair back into place. She opened her mouth as if to say something more, but snapped it shut, turning away and hurrying from the room.

Misty flopped back down on the bed, throwing her arms above her head. She sighed, her heart aching for her dear friend. No one should have to go through the amount of pain Cordelia endured.

She rolled onto her side and took a deep breath, taking comfort in the scent that clung to the pillows and sheets, the particular scent that belonged solely to the powerful witch that slept there.

_Cordelia is strong_, she told herself. _Stronger than even she knows. She'll make it through, and she'll thrive_.


	5. Chapter 5

As she lay on the bed, breathing in Cordelia's scent, Misty's stomach growled loudly, making her giggle softly. She remembered that she had skipped breakfast this morning, too caught up in Stevie to think about food.

Swinging her legs off the bed, she decided to go down to the kitchen and see if there were any bagels left. She clattered down the stairs, wrapping Stevie's shawl around her shoulders.

She was still a little worried about Cordelia, so as she made her way down the hall she stopped outside the living room, listening. The voices inside sounded calm enough, and there was no smack of skin on skin, so Misty supposed everything was going all right, for the moment. She heard Marie's voice along with Cordelia and Fiona's, and hoped that she at least would appreciate all of the work Cordelia had put into finding Mr. Renard.

Misty didn't think Fiona would ever accept Cordelia, ever realize what a wonderful woman and witch she was, and it made her heart clench in her chest. Cordelia deserved all the love in the world. She hoped that, someone, she would be able to prove that to her friend.

Finally making her way into the kitchen, she began to rummage through the cupboards, looking for something to eat. It still felt a little odd, being able to just take whatever she wanted whenever she felt hungry, not having to pick it from her garden or scrounge it up.

"Hungry?" came a voice from behind her. She spun to find Madison leaning against the counter, dangling a cigarette between her fingers. Misty nodded, wondering if the girl was going to shoot a sarcastic at her, as she seemed to like to do. Instead all she said was, "C'mon. I know where we can get some sweet kabobs."

"Oh! Alright," Misty said, smiling. None of the other girls in the house really paying much attention her, so she was excited to spend some time with the young witch.

"Let's go then," Madison said, stubbing her cigarette out on the counter. "I'd tell you to wear black, but since that's all anyone in this house seems to wear anyway…"

They left the house, making their way leisurely down the street on foot. Misty gazed around her, taking in the brilliant blue of the sky, spotted with wispy clouds.

"It's a beautiful day, ain't it?" she commented.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Madison replied, sounding distracted. She kept craning her head, trying to see around the house on the corner. As they turned passed it, she announced, "Finally, there it is."

Ahead of them stood a funeral home, a large group of people already gathered outside.

"A funeral home?" asked Misty incredulously.

"Yeah. There's a jazz funeral today. I thought it'd be fun," Madison said. Misty just stared at her. "What?" she asked defensively. "I've been hanging around the morgue a lot. You hear things."

Misty shrugged. It was enough that Madison was spending time with her. Besides, a jazz funeral did sound interesting.

"And see, check it out, kabobs," Madison pointed out as they wound through the knot of people. They each took a skewer from the smiling man behind the table and took a bite.

Juice dripped down Misty's chin as she hummed in satisfaction. "Wow," she mumbled around a mouthful of chicken. Madison rolled her eyes.

Suddenly, they heard the sound of music as the band picked up their instruments and began to play. They stepped out onto the street, playing a slow, somber song, followed by the pallbearers with the casket, then the rest of the funeral-goers. Misty and Madison brought up the rear.

They processed slowly down the street, the brass band leading them towards the cemetery. Misty munched on her shish kabob, finding that she was enjoying herself despite the melancholy occasion.

"Damn," she said, tearing another bite of meat off her skewer, "this kabob is some kind of tasty. Thanks for treating."

Madison made a little noise in the back of her throat, telling her, "Get used to it. If you are the next Supreme, pretty soon you'll be drowning in merch."

"Merch?"

"Merchandise, swag, the cookies," Madison listed, making Misty even more confused. "You know."

"No, I'm not sure I do," Misty admitted.

As Madison went on to explain, Misty began to feel more and more angry and lost. The world Madison described was a dismal place, with kindness only coming at the price of a favor in return. Even as she tried to deny it, Misty could feel the truth of Madison's words. Ever since she could remember, she had lived in that world, where people would only pretended to be her friend to gain access to her gifts.

Misty pushed the dark thoughts down, conjuring up the inner white light she used to protect and calm herself.

"No, I know what you're tryin' to do," she said, stopping in the street and turning to face Madison. "Mess me up. Make me doubt myself. You think I'm stupid 'cause of where I came from." She started took a few steps away, turning back to gesture at the young witch with her skewer. "Well, I'm not that easily bought, and I ain't so easily fooled. Thanks for the lunch." She tore the last piece of chicken off the stick with her teeth, tossing the scrap of wood at Madison's feet.

"You're right," she heard Madison call as she walked away. "I do think you're stupid." Misty stopped walking and turned back to face the girl. "Do you want to change my opinion? Let me show you something."

The two witches walked in frosty silence the last few blocks to the cemetery, still following the funeral procession. They watched as the column left the casket to be interred at its monument, the band swinging into a much happier, more upbeat song. The funeral-goers started dancing and laughing, celebrating the life of the man they were about to bury.

Misty and Madison hung back near the mausoleum, along with two undertakers whose job it was to seal the tomb after the coffin was placed inside.

"Enchant these guys, would you?" Madison asked. "We just need a minute."

Misty stepped forward, secretly pleased that Madison couldn't do it herself. She waved her hand elegantly, and the men froze in place.

"So?" she inquired, shrugging Stevie's shawl higher onto her shoulders. "What'd you wanna show me?"

"That I'm just as powerful as you," Madison replied.

Misty smiled a thin-lipped smile. "Prove it."

Madison held out her hand and the coffin sprang open, the man inside opening his eyes. He climbed out, looking around in mute confusion, and shambled away.

"See?" Madison said as Misty watched the man go. "You're powerful, I'm powerful. I don't need you. I just want to be your friend." Misty narrowed her eyes at the young witch, wary of how much truth was in her words. "Now lose the ugly shawl," she commanded.

"Are you insane?" demanded Misty, clutching the shawl tighter around her. "This came direct from Stevie."

"She probably has a bargain bin in her basement with twenty more like it, to hand out when she needs to make someone feel special,"

Misty stepped closer to Madison, a tight smile on her face. "Stevie would never do that," she asserted.

Madison sighed. "Lose the shawl. Drop it in the coffin. Let the part of you that's just an imitation of some other witch die. Give life to you." She placed her hands on Misty's shoulders, pushing her gently towards the casket. "The one, true, Misty Day."

She stepped back, and Misty looked over towards the man whose empty coffin she was standing over. He was still wandering around, looking dazed and lost. She could relate; she felt a bit lost, too. Maybe, if she stopped trying so hard to hold on to being like Stevie, she could find out who she was, and where she belonged.

She let the shawl fall from her shoulders, catching it and bringing it to her face. Burying her nose in its soft fabric, she inhaled the faint scent that lingered there. She had thought it smelled of Stevie, but maybe the scent really was that of Stevie's basement, where the shawl had sat with countless others, waiting to be given away as cheap tokens.

Holding it in front of her, she let the long tassels dangle into the coffin. The longer she looked at it, however, the less she believed Madison's story. _Stevie would never do that_, she thought. _She just wouldn't_.

She clutched the shawl back to her chest, and at the same moment felt something solid connect with the back of her skull. Then, everything went dark.

Misty awoke with a start, banging her head off of something as she tried to sit up. She collapsed back down, completely disoriented. She blinked her eyes a few times, but there was no difference between open and closed. Everything was pitch black.

She wracked her mind as she felt around her, trying to recall what had happened. Her fingers ran over smooth silk, and she remembered holding Stevie's soft shawl to her chest. She remembered something hard hitting her from behind, where Madison had been standing…

_Madison_. Suddenly, everything clicked. Madison must have knocked her out with something as she stood over the empty coffin, causing her to fall in. She must have closed it before she unfroze the undertakers; with no way to know that the occupants had changed, they had gone ahead with their job, sealing the coffin into its mausoleum.

Misty began to panic, her hands scrabbling at the silk-covered walls and lid, desperate to find a way out. She should never have trusted Madison. How could she have been so naïve? Had she really believed that the girl would want to spend time with her, would want to be her friend? Ever since she arrived, Madison had either ignored her or insulted her, constantly insisting she couldn't be the next Supreme.

Tears began to stream from her eyes, and she felt her breathing pick up. With great effort, she stilled herself, forcing her breathing to even out. She knew that she had to conserve oxygen if she wanted to get out. But how? It wasn't like anyone would miss her enough to come looking for her. Except maybe one. Cordelia.

_Cordelia will find me_, Misty told herself. _She's strong, and powerful. She'll be able to figure it out_.

As she lay there in the dark, images of the older witch danced in front of her eyes. She saw her happy smile as they worked together in the greenhouse, her tearstained cheeks as she searched for the witch hunters beside her on the bed. She saw her beautiful eyes, both blind as they had been when they first met and the mismatched blue and brown after Myrtle had healed them. No matter what they looked like, Misty thought they were the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen.

She thought about how she felt when she was near Cordelia. How happy, and warm, and… right. In spite of all the craziness around them, the death and deceit and danger, they had managed to create their own little world, their own sort of family, that was just the two of them.

_My tribe_, Misty thought with a sob. _I found it. But I waited too long, and now it's too late._

She began to cry in earnest, slowly slipping back into oblivion.

Trapped in the dark, unable to keep track of time, Misty slipped in and out of consciousness. At one point, she jerked awake, feeling a presence nearby, just outside the walls of her prison/tomb.

"Cordelia! Cordelia!" she screamed, until her throat was raw and her fists were bloody from pounding on the coffin lid. Suddenly, the presence disappeared, and she fell back into nothing.


	6. Chapter 6

Much later, or what felt like much later, she couldn't really tell, Misty awoke once more. For some ridiculous reason, she realized that the shawl Stevie had given her was gone. The thought made her want to cry. Instead, her oxygen-deprived brain decided a good way to cheer herself up would be to sing. Picking the first song that popped into her head, she began to rasp out the lyrics to "Landslide".

Something told her not to stop, so she kept singing until she was gasping, panting out short strings of words as she fought for breath. Finally, she sucked in what she knew was her last breath, her lungs burning as they filled with more carbon dioxide than oxygen. Exhaling, she gasped out one last word.

"Delia."

Her head lolled to the side, the remaining air rattling from her chest.

Suddenly, Misty found herself jackknifing upright, choking as her lungs flooded with oxygen once more. Someone had brought her back.

"Misty, oh my god," Cordelia gasped, stretching a hand out towards her. "You're alive. Thank god, thank god…"

"God had nothing to do with it," said the girl next to the coffin, getting to her feet and dusting off her palms. "That was all me."

Misty was obviously no stranger to resurrection magic, and had learned to track it to its source. Even as her breathing evened out, she could feel the last traces of magic, like filmy tendrils, connecting her to its caster. It wasn't the girl beside her, as the other two witches seemed to believe, but the woman standing at the foot of the coffin.

_Delia_, Misty though. _You have such power, and you don't even know it_.

She hauled herself out of the coffin, her arms and legs feeling like wet noodles. For a moment, she was able to steady herself, but as she went to take a step a wave of dizziness came over her and her legs gave out. She fell sideways, into Delia's outstretched arms, causing the woman to stumble backwards slightly. It was then that she became fully aware of the cane in Delia's hand, the sunglasses on her face despite the late hour.

"Delia…" she said hoarsely, and heard the witch gasp softly. "You're blind again?"

"Yep," the girl behind them said, drawing Misty's attention. "Crazy bitch stabbed her own eyes out."

"Queenie…" Delia muttered as Misty spun back to her, cupping her face in her palms and running her thumb's over her cheekbones.

"You didn't…" she murmured, tears filling her eyes.

Delia just nodded. "With the gardening sheers," she said, trying to laugh a bit. "I thought it was the only way to get my Second Sight back. The only way to find you." As she spoke, her voice softened until it was nearly a whisper. She ran her hand through Misty's hair, smoothing the tangled curls back into place.

Misty caught her hand as Delia started to pull it away, pressing it to her cheek. "Thank you," she whispered, a watery smile she was sure Delia could feel spreading across her face.

Behind them, Queenie cleared her throat uncomfortably, causing Delia to pull her hand away. "Not that this hasn't been fun and all," she said, in a tone that indicated she had found it anything but, "but I'd really like to get back to my bed and back to sleep." She scowled at Misty. "And it is mine now. Don't think just because I brought you back I'm gonna let you steal my room again."

She stalked back to the car, leaving Misty and Delia to follow. Misty stayed close to Delia's side, watching as she was once again forced to feel before her with her cane. Every so often, Delia's pinky would catch on her hand as it swung back, sending a tiny shock up Misty's arm. When they reached the car, Delia climbed in the passenger seat, leaving Misty to sit in the back.

The car ride back to the Academy was conducted mostly in silence, giving Misty even more time to think. Now that she was out of the coffin, her thoughts from inside it seemed foolish. What if Delia didn't feel the same way about her? She probably would have tried just as hard to rescue any of the girls under her care. Misty didn't think she could take it if she was rejected once again, this time by someone she cared so much about.

As soon as she pulled the car into the driveway, Queenie cut the engine and jumped out, making a beeline for the house. Misty helped Delia out of the car, tentatively taking her elbow and being rewarded with a small, contented sigh and a slight canting of Delia's body towards her own.

As they approached the side door, Misty heard the sound of voices in the kitchen. Zoe said something, and then someone laughed. It was a short, derisive snort, almost too low to hear, but Misty recognized it immediately.

She dropped Delia's elbow and strode into the kitchen, pushing past Queenie.

"You bitch," she sneered, drawing back her arm and landing a heavy smack across Madison's face as she turned around. "You thought I was some dumb swamp rat you could leave behind to die?"

Madison stepped forward into Misty's personal space. "Umm, yes?" she laughed.

Misty drew back her arm again, this time closing her fist as she punched Madison straight on the nose.

Madison recovered quickly, shoving Misty as she walked past, ignoring Myrtle's warning to stop fighting.

"Cordelia?" Myrtle requested, trying to find some support.

"I'm good," Delia replied, giving Misty just the encouragement she needed to know she would be in the right if she beat the conceited little witch to a bloody pulp.

"I don't wanna waste my magic on you. I can do you with my hands." Misty wrapped her hands around Madison's neck and pushed her into the wall, eliciting a scream from the girl.

"You hit like a girl!" Madison yelled.

In reply, Misty grabbed her head and swung her around, sending her rolling into the dining room. Misty followed, blood pounding in her ears as Madison gasped in pain.

"This is awesome!" she heard Queenie say, and smirked in agreement.

"No it's not," Zoe argued, yelling at Misty to stop.

Misty ignored her. "C'mon. Get up, Hollywood," she said, allowing Madison to stand.

She dodged Madison's punches, then grabbed the girl's chin and answered with another to her face. Madison broke free and tackled Misty around her stomach, driving her backwards. Misty pounded her viciously on the back with her fist, forcing her to let go before she grabbed her hair and threw her to the ground again.

Madison scrambled away on her hands and knees as Misty strolled after her, vengeance singing through her veins. She grabbed Madison's ass and pushed, sending her sprawling once more. As Madison tried to rise, she kicked her once in the gut, then again.

Misty grabbed her by the throat and dragged her upright, only to have her hand ripped from the screaming girl's neck by Kyle.

"Enough!" he roared.

"You!" came another voice, and everyone turned to see a man striding down the hall towards them, covered in blood and carrying an axe. "You will pay for what you've done!" he screamed, lifting the axe above his head.

"Wow, did you walk into the wrong house," Madison quipped almost before he had finished the sentence. As one, the knot of witches lifted their hands, sending the man flying through the air to crash into the stairs.

"Who the hell is this guy?" Queenie demanded.

"I know that voice," said Delia. "It's the Axeman."

Myrtle piped in from the doorway. "I thought you had banished his soul to the appropriate nether realms."

"No, he's on the mortal coil," Delia assured her.

The man struggled to stand, only succeeding in sliding down a few stairs. "I'll kill all of you!" he bellowed.

"Is that blood?" Myrtle asked, as if the man hadn't spoken.

"Not his," Misty said. She wasn't sure how she knew, but she could sense the blood spattering the man's face was not his own.

"Then whose?"

When she couldn't answer, Delia came to the front off the group, slowly kneeling and running her fingers over the blood drops on the floor. As she drew her hand back, she sucked in a short gasp, and Misty knew she was seeing something. Suddenly, she collapsed to the side, sitting down hard.

"This blood is my mothers," she announced softly.

A shocked hush settled over the gathered witches. Delia scrambled to her feet and started down the hall, her hands held out in front of her. Misty hurried after her, stopping her with a hand to her shoulder.

"Delia, what're you doin'?" she asked.

Delia shrugged, attempting to dislodge Misty's hand. "I have to see what happened. I have to touch him," she whispered, her voice strained.

"Then let me help," Misty said softly, transferring her hand to Delia's opposite shoulder and taking her elbow. Delia turned her sightless eyes towards Misty for a second, then turned away again, nodding once.

Together they walked down the hall, slowly approaching the Axeman. He stayed where he was, conflicting emotions of rage, sadness, and fear flickering over his features. Misty brought them to a halt a few feet away, wanting to make sure fear would win out before she let Delia touch him.

"Stay here a sec," she whispered into Delia's ear. When she was sure the woman would comply, she stepped forward, bracing herself on the railing as she leaned over him menacingly.

Bringing her face inches from his, she let the rage left over from her brawl with Madison fill her eyes. "If you even _think_ about touching her," she hissed, "I will personally reach down your fucking throat and rip your fucking intestines out. Got it?" She watched the color drain from his face as terror filled his eyes. "Good," she said, giving his leg a kick as she stepped away.

"He's all yours," she told Delia, moving to the side to make room for the other girls to crowd around.

Delia knelt down in front of the man, feeling for his face and laying her hands over it. As she did, her body jerked, her mind flooded with another vision. The collected witches listened in tense silence as she relayed what she saw.

"Holy shit," Zoe whispered as Delia pulled her hands away from the Axeman's face. "So she's really gone."

"Does anyone feel any different?" Madison inquired.

Myrtle asked where the body was. "In the swamps," Delia told her, her breath shaky. "He fed her to the alligators." She turned away slowly, as if each movement was painful.

"Jesus," Zoe interjected.

"Well, that's it, then," Misty said, unable to bring herself to feel terribly sorry about the woman's death. "Even I can't bring somebody back once they're gator shit."

"Okay. So who wants to do this?" Queenie asked. When everyone just looked at her in confusion she elaborated, "Somebody's gotta kill this creep."

The man tried to reach for his axe, but Madison summoned it to her hand before he could grab it. Myrtle protested against Queenie's suggestion, saying that he had done the coven a favor by getting rid of Fiona.

"And as Cervantes said," she quoted, "'where there is music there can be no evil.'"

Stepping forward, Kyle said, "Cervantes never met this asshole." He grabbed the Axeman by the collar and started to drag him away. "I'm coven guard dog. I'll kill him."

"No," Madison objected. "I'll do it." She stalked towards the two men, hefting the axe and swinging it into the Axeman's stomach. Kyle let him go, and he stumbled into the next room, blood pouring from the gaping wound.

Misty followed Madison after him, the rest of the girls coming behind her. "We really don't need a man to protect us," she told Kyle as she passed.

As the three girls emerged into the kitchen, they put out their hands, summoning three huge knives to them. Queenie kicked the man down, and they all fell on him, plunging their knives into his soft flesh.

"Don't be messing with our coven!" Zoe shouted, blood splashed across her face, as they continued to stab him, over and over and over.


	7. Chapter 7

When the Axeman finally went still and the blood rage left everyone's system, they drew back, staring at each other.

"Well," Madison said, cocking her hip and cleaning under her nails with her knife. "That was fun."

Zoe made a noise of horror and disgust, staring at her own bloodstained hands, and ran from the room.

Misty, for her part, felt a bit numb, shocked that she was able to take part in killing something, even something as terrible as a serial killer. She carefully put her knife down on the counter and followed Zoe from the room. She went into the bathroom and let the water run, scrubbing her hands and face and getting as much blood out of her hair as she could.

After a while, she heard Delia calling all the girls for a meeting. She dried herself off and made her way into the living room, where Delia and Myrtle were waiting.

When everyone had assembled, Delia had Kyle fetch Fiona's painting, instructing him to hang it in the space the Supreme had picked.

"How does she look?" Delia asked as he stepped away.

"Magnificent," Myrtle told her. "I wish you could see it."

Delia slowly raised her hand, placing it on Myrtle's shoulder. "I can. I can see it through you. She was so beautiful."

The other girls chimed in, spouting pretty, meaningless praise. Misty just rolled her eyes.

Delia seemed to agree with Misty. Taking her hand off Myrtle's shoulder, she said, "She was a force to be reckoned with, but she was a horrible Supreme. She shirked all of her responsibility, including the most important: identifying her successor. So it will be up to us to find our new leader, and the only way is through the test of Seven Wonders. And since it could be any one of you, you will all be tested.

"The Seven Wonders," she repeated, her voice grave. "Sunday, at dawn, it begins. Everyone participates. And by next week, we will have a new Supreme."

After a moment of silence, the girls trickled from the room, no doubt thinking of how they would best the others during the trials. Misty went to follow them, but stopped in the doorway, looking back at Delia.

Myrtle, who had stayed behind, gently drew her into a hug. "Get some rest, lovely girl. You will need all of your energy to get through the days ahead." She smoothed Delia's hair, her eyes darting over the woman's face, then left as well.

For a minute, Delia just stood there, staring at Fiona's portrait as if she could actually see it. Misty watched her, reflecting on her own behavior earlier that evening. She had been so caught up in her caustic anger towards Madison that she hadn't given a second thought to how news of Fiona's death would affect Delia. Even though she hadn't shed a single tear, Misty could tell her friend was deeply hurt.

She took a step into the room, calling the woman's name. "Delia?"

Delia jumped, and Misty cursed at herself for basically sneaking up on the blind woman.

"Misty? Is that you?" Delia asked as the younger witch stopped several feet away.

"Yeah, it's me," Misty replied, nervously playing with the fabric of her skirt. "Um, I just wanted to say that I'm real sorry for what happened to Fiona." She stepped forward, wanting to be closer to Delia but afraid to touch her. "I know she wasn't very good to you, but she was still your mama, and I'm sorry you lost her."

Delia gave her a shaky smile. "Thank you for saying that," she said, her voice breaking a little, "but I think that the coven will be better off without her."

"I'm not arguin' that," Misty said, "or that it won't be better for you, too. All I'm sayin' is that, even if she wasn't a good person, it's alright to miss her."

Delia stayed silent for a moment, her head bowed. Then, Misty saw a tear fall from her cheek. "I do," she whimpered, finally letting her emotions out. "I do miss her."

Unable to hold herself back, Misty took Delia in her arms, guiding her head onto her shoulder. "Let it out," she told Delia, rubbing her hands up and down the other woman's back as she sobbed quietly into the crook of Misty's neck. "Just let it all out."

They stood there for a while, Misty rocking them slightly, until Delia's tears had run their course. She lifted her head from Misty's shoulder, sniffling faintly and wiping tears from her cheeks.

"I always seem to be crying around you," she said, her breath hitching as she tried to laugh.

"I don't mind," Misty told her honestly. "I like that you can show your emotions around me. It makes me realize how strong you are."

"Really?" asked Delia cynically. "Me blubbering like a baby makes you think I'm strong?"

"No, that's not it at all," Misty said, finding it frustrating but endearing that Delia still didn't understand. "When you cry in front of me, it makes me realize how much you keep bottled up the rest of the time. It makes me realize how much effort and strength it must take to keep up that mask of calm for everyone else."

Delia was silent, looking like she had never thought about it that way before. "Thank you," she said after a while, "for being here for me."

"Whenever you need a good cry, I've got a shoulder you can do it on," Misty said, attempting to lighten the mood.

She was rewarded with a tiny smile, and then suddenly Delia was pulling her in for another hug. Misty sighed, her body relaxing into the smaller woman's touch as she breathed in the scent of her shampoo.

Suddenly, she thought of something. "Delia?" she asked, receiving a soft hum in reply. "Where am I supposed to sleep now, since Queenie took her room back?"

Delia pulled back slightly, still keeping a hold of Misty's arms. "You'll be sleeping in my room, with me," she responded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh," was all Misty could manage. Sleeping in the same room as Delia? Whatever Misty had been expecting, it wasn't that.

"Come on, we should probably go ahead," Delia said, taking Misty's hand and leading her towards the stairs. "It's going to be a long few days, and we need to get our rest."

Misty let herself be pulled along, trying to ignore her racing heart. All to soon they were outside Delia's room, and Delia was opening the door and pulling her inside.

As they entered, Delia stopped for a second, dropping Misty's hand and fumbling for the light switch before managing to flick it on. Misty realized it was entirely for her benefit, since it would make no difference for Delia if the light were on or off.

Misty looked around, really taking in the room for the first time. The first time she had been here it had been mostly dark, and she had been too focused on Delia to study her surroundings. The bed was a spacious four-poster, with side tables on either side. There was a door to the closet in one corner, with one to the bathroom in the other. A vanity table was set against the near wall, and a dresser stood against the opposite.

Misty stopped just inside the doorway, unsure of what to do with herself. Delia had already moved over to the bed, and was feeling around underneath it.

"Would you close the door for me?" she asked, her voice muffled from beneath the bed. Misty hastened to comply, but felt exponentially awkward the moment she did. With the door closed, there was no way to pretend this wasn't happening, that it was just some kind of misunderstanding and Delia was going to lead her to her new room at any moment. She was really spending the night in Delia's room, with Delia.

"Queenie wanted to get rid of all of your things, but I managed to stop her from throwing them out," Delia said, emerging from under the bed holding the trunk Misty had first brought her things to the house in. "It's all here, safe and sound."

"Oh, uh, thank you," Stevie stuttered, knowing even as she said it that it sounded lame.

Delia didn't seem to notice, however, simply smiling and crossing to the dresser. "I'm going to get changed in the bathroom if you want to change in here," she said, taking out a pair of pajamas. Before Misty could respond, she disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Misty crossed to the bed, kneeling down and hurriedly rummaging through her trunk to find her favorite white linen nightgown. She turned away from the bathroom door, pulling off her dress and replacing it with the nightgown as quickly as she could. That accomplished without incident, she sat down on the edge of the bed, willing her heart to stop pounding.

Suddenly, she heard the doorknob to the bathroom turning, and jumped off the bed just as Delia came back into the room. Misty couldn't stop the flush that spread across her cheeks and down her neck when she saw how the other woman was dressed. She was wearing a small pastel-green cotton tee that stopped just above the waistband of her shorts, showing a thin strip of creamy white skin. The shorts themselves were made of a rosy pink silk patterned with tiny flowers, and barely reached past her underwear, revealing miles of smooth, pale legs.

Trying to distract herself from the sight in front of her, Misty asked, "Do you have any extra blankets I can spread on the floor to lie on? I didn't see any…"

"Don't be silly," Delia said as she rolled down the covers on her bed and sat down, swinging her legs up onto the mattress. "I would never make you sleep on the floor. This bed is big enough to fit the both of us."

Misty just stood there frozen, her heart nearly beating out of her chest. _Stop getting all worked up_, she told herself. _Girls sleep together all the time at sleepovers. It's nothing_.

When Misty didn't move, Delia's forehead creased in anxiety. "Oh no, I've been far too forward, haven't I? Of course you'd prefer your own bed…"

"No, no," Misty replied hastily, stopping Delia from getting up. "That's not it. I just didn't want _you_ to feel uncomfortable."

Delia settled back onto the bed, smiling shyly. "Actually, I'd feel _more_ comfortable with you here," she admitted. "I don't want Madison, or anyone else for that matter, making any more attempts on your life. I need you to stay safe until the Seven Wonders."

This time, when Delia patted the covers beside her, Misty climbed in without hesitation. It was gratifying to know that Delia really did want her there, even if it was only to keep an eye on her. As the other woman snuggled down under the covers, Misty reached over and turned off the lights, leaving the only illumination to the silver glow of moonlight through the curtains.

She lay curled up on her side facing the outside of the bed, careful to keep space between herself and her bedfellow. They lay in silence for a while, and Misty was just starting to nod off when she heard Delia's voice.

"Misty?" she called softly.

Misty rolled over, finding the other woman already facing her. Her breath caught in her throat.

"Yes, Delia?" she whispered.

"I'm so glad I found you."

Misty giggled quietly. "Me too," she teased.

Snuggling down into her pillow, she closed her eyes and began drifting towards sleep. When she was nearly out, she heard Delia's voice again.

"Misty?"

"Hmm?" she hummed sleepily, cracking her eyes open.

"I think I love you."

Misty's heart stopped. She musty have heard wrong. Someone like Delia would never say that to her.

She felt Delia's hand cover her own, twining their fingers together where they lay on the sheets between them.

"Won't you say something?" Delia murmured.

Misty knew then that it wasn't a trick of her ears. It was true. _She loves me_.

"I love you, too," she breathed, almost too soft to hear.

Delia let out a sigh, her eyes fluttering shut in contentment. After a moment of silence, she asked, "Will you promise me something?"

"Anything," Misty agreed immediately.

Delia opened her eyes again, and even through their milky pink, Misty could see the depth of her love, and her worry.

"Promise me you'll never die on me again."

Misty let out a rueful laugh. "Well, I'll sure try. I can't really promise, though, not with Madison runnin' around."

Delia smiled, taking Misty's words in the lighthearted spirit she meant them.

"I guess that's all I can really ask for."

The two women settled into a comfortable, loving silence, resting their foreheads together and twining their legs as they sank into sleep side by side.


	8. Chapter 8

Misty woke slowly, the warm sun chinking through a gap in the curtains and falling on her face. At some point during the night, Delia had rolled over and they had started spooning, Misty's face pressed into Delia's silky hair.

Snuggling closer, Misty took a deep breath in, inhaling the scent of Delia's shampoo and the essence of the woman underneath.

_This is what home feels like_, she though, sighing dreamily.

Her movement must have woken Delia up, for she stirred, turning over in Misty's arms.

"Good mornin', sleepy head," Misty said, giving the other woman a peck on the nose as she drowsily blinked her eyes.

"Good morning, dear," Delia replied with a lazy smile, kick starting Misty's heart. She sat up, reaching above her head and pointing her toes in a deep stretch. "What time is it?"

Misty propped herself up on her elbows, enjoying the way Delia's shirt rode up her stomach as she stretched. She glanced at the clock on the bedside table, reading out, "Nine thirty-six."

"Oh goodness," Delia said, swinging off the bed and crossing to her closet. "I'm usually up much earlier than this."

"Really?" Misty leaned back, her hands behind her head, watching the way Delia's ass moved as she walked. "This is pretty early for me."

"It's probably good that you're up," Delia called from the closet as she felt around for something to wear. "That way you can go ahead and start preparing for the Seven Wonders."

Misty hopped up from the bed, frowning, and walked up behind Delia. "Oh, yeah, those," she said, slowly wrapping her hands around the other woman's waist. With all that had happened last night, the upcoming trials had completely slipped her mind.

Resting a cheek against Delia's hair, she reached over the witch's shoulder, drawing a black dress with a low collar and long sleeves out of the closet. "You should wear this one," she told Delia, guiding her hand to take it. "You always look gorgeous in black."

Delia turned in the circle of her arms, a warm smile on her face. "Thank you," she said, then stepped away towards the bathroom. "I'll be right back out."

Misty wanted her to stay, but didn't think they were at the point in their relationship where she could ask. Instead, she crossed back to her trunk, pulling out her own black dress and slipping it on.

As she waited, she rummaged through the assorted dresses and shawls, until she felt a familiar fabric. Drawing the piece out, she gazed at it in wonder, running her fingers over the embroidered flowers. Stevie's shawl. Misty had though it was gone forever after it disappeared from her arms in the coffin. Delia must have gotten it back somehow. She draped it over her shoulders, her heart swelling with the thought that Delia cared enough to recover her most treasured possession.

When Delia emerged from the bathroom, Misty skipped over and grabbed her hand, drawing her towards the hall door.

"So, where're we gonna start?" she asked. "I was thinkin' we could go down to the greenhouse and –"

"Actually," Delia said, interrupting her, "witches attempting the Seven Wonders aren't allowed to receive help from anyone. Technically, we aren't even supposed to be in the same room right now."

Misty dropped Delia's hand, pouting. "So I can't see you 'til we start doin' the Wonders?" she asked.

Delia stepped forward, feeling for Misty's cheek and planting a kiss there. "Don't worry, we'll see each other at dinner tonight." As she drew back, she gave Misty a cheeky grin. "And I'm sure we can manage to sneak you back in here afterwards."

Misty beamed, her hand rising to her cheek of its own accord. She loved seeing this playful side of Delia. "All right, then," she said, making her way over to the door. "See you later."

"Later," Delia promised.

Misty closed the door softly, then took off down the hall, galloping down the stairs and out to the greenhouse. Waking up next to Delia, her words, her _kiss_; they all zinged through Misty's veins like electricity, making it feel like she was about to burst from love. Knowing she would never be able to focus while she felt like this, she did the only thing she could think of, and started twirling. Around and around she spun, her head tilted back, until she was dizzy and stumbling over her own feet.

Bracing herself against the worktable, she waited until her heart stopped pounding and the room stopped spinning. Having twirled off all of her extra energy, she felt like she could concentrate on preparing herself for the Seven Wonders.

To warm up, she walked around the room, finding dead and dying plants and bringing them back using her magic. When she had managed to bring them all back, she decided to test herself. She knew she could bring entire plants back, but could she restore specific parts of them?

Misty grabbed a small, pink-leaved plant that was just beginning to bud. She placed in on Delia's little desk, under the lights, and grabbing the pruning shears. Holding the blades around the stem of the largest bud, she took a deep, steadying breath, then snipped it off. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the severed stem, and willed it to regrow.

Opening her eyes, she saw the bud swell and grow as it was restored to its original state. A smile spread across her face as she studied it, feeling proud of herself. She turned her head to say something to Delia, until she realized she wasn't there.

An intense longing for the older witch came over her. Misty couldn't wait for tonight; she had to see Delia now. Dropping the sheers, she exited the greenhouse, making her way towards the main house. As she hurried across the lawn, she saw a figure through the kitchen, sitting at the table. Her heart leapt in her chest when she realized it was Delia.

Quietly opening the back door, she decided to sneak up on the other woman. She tiptoed carefully across the floor, coming up behind Delia's chair, and clapped her hands on Delia's shoulders. "Guess who?" Misty whispered in her ear.

Delia jumped in fright, clapping a hand over her heart. "Misty?" she hissed, receiving only a giggle in reply. "My god, you almost gave me a heart attack. What are you doing here?"

Misty came around to sit next to her, trailing her hand over Delia's shoulders. "I couldn't wait 'til dinner. I just had to see you."

"I'm not saying I'm not glad you're here, but you really shouldn't be –"

Misty leaned forward, thoroughly silencing her by pressing a firm kiss to her lips. As she made to pull back, Delia grabbed the back of her head, bringing her closer and moving their lips together roughly.

Finally, they drew apart, each breathing heavily. A deep flush spread across Delia's chest, and her lips were swollen and red. Misty thought she had never looked more beautiful.

"I've been wantin' to do that for a very long time," she whispered, tucking a golden lock behind Delia's ear and touching their foreheads together.

"So have I," Delia replied, her sweet breath mixing with Misty's between them.

Misty's heart skipped a beat, and she leaned back in for another kiss. Delia seemed to melt under her touch, sinking into the kiss as she reached up, her fingers tracing Misty's collarbones and up over her shoulders. Misty clutched her waist with one hand, allowing the other to run over Delia's hip and down her leg, dipping to feather over her inner thigh.

Abruptly, Delia pushed Misty away. "No, we can't, not now," she panted, rearranging her skirt to cover more of her legs. "You need to focus on preparing for the Seven Wonders."

"Fuck the Seven Wonders," Misty growled, her chair scraping behind her as she stood in frustration. Seeing the hurt and worry on Delia's face, however, she immediately backtracked. "I'm sorry," she apologized, leaning down and placing another sweet kiss on Delia's lips. "I just wanna spend more time with you. But I know how important this is, so I promise I'll spend the rest of the day preparin'."

Delia took a hold of her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You know I just want you to be safe, right?" she asked softly.

Misty wrapped her other hand around their joined ones, rubbing her thumb over the back of Delia's hand. "I know," she sighed. "I just don't like that it means I have to be away from you."

"I know," Delia echoed, pulling Misty down for one last kiss. Misty could almost taste the love on her lips. Finally letting go, Delia gave her a tiny shove. "Now go practice, so you can kick some ass tomorrow."

Misty laughed and backed away. Stopping in the doorway, she brought her fingers to her lips, then tilted them towards Delia and blew on them. "I'm blowing you a kiss," she narrated.

Delia reached up and closed her fist around the air, bringing it to her chest.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

With that, Misty turned away and bounded into the yard, feeling like she could float away at any second.

For the remainder of the afternoon, she tried her hardest to focus on preparing for the Seven Wonders, chasing away thoughts of Delia's soft skin and sweet lips whenever they appeared (which was more often than she'd like to admit).

She already knew she could handle vitalum vitalis, so she tried practicing for the other trials. By the time the dinner bell rang, she felt fairly comfortable with transmutation and pyrokinesis, but still couldn't quite get the hang of telekinesis.

By the time she made it into the dining room, all of the other girls were there, and the only available seat was at the opposite end of the table from Delia, between Zoe and Madison. Trying not to let her disappointment show, she took her seat, watching Myrtle prepare their meal.

She explained that she was serving caviar, and Misty took an experimental sniff as she handed a plate to Zoe. It didn't smell like much of anything, just a slight salt-water odor. Passing the plate on, she listened as Myrtle described this meal as their own Last Supper.

"For one of you, a last moment of freedom and anonymity before assuming the Supremacy," the redheaded witch was saying. "For any one of you others, possibly a last meal."

Her words filled Misty with a deep dread. She had faced death before, but somehow, she knew this was different. If she died during the trials, the consequences would be much more dire, and, likely, much more permanent.

"From the beginning of this coven it has been every outgoing Supreme's duty to identify her successor," Delia spoke up, "which, Fiona not only neglected to do, she actually tried to kill her successor." Madison fidgeted uncomfortably with her scarf. "So, we are doing something never done in our history. We are going to give all four of you a chance to prove yourselves. Only one of you will succeed.

"To quote the Bible, loosely, 'When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I understood like a child, I thought like a child. But when I became a woman, I put aside childish things.'" She stood, raising her glass, and everyone followed suit. "Childhood is over, girls. Put aside fears, reservations, and petty things. Kick ass tomorrow."

When Misty heard the words of their earlier conversation echoed in Delia's speech, she knew they were meant solely for her. She took a sip of her champagne with the rest of the witches, the fluttering in her stomach having nothing to do with the bubbles from the fizzy drink.

The dinner was a rather rushed affair, as there wasn't much to eat and all of the girls wanted to get back to their own rooms to prepare more. Misty wanted to get away as well, but for an entirely different reason.

As she was leaving the table, Misty walked around behind Delia, subtly trailing her hand along the woman's arm, trying to convey through touch that she would be upstairs, waiting. After she deposited her dishes in the sink, she climbed the staircase, making her way towards Delia's room.

Just as she put her hand on the doorknob, however, she heard Madison's voice behind her. "What'cha doing in Cordy's room, swamp bitch?" she leered.

"I, uh, I left my trunk in there," Misty stuttered.

"Right," the young witch smirked. "So, what room are you staying in now?"

"Ummm," Misty stammered, trying to think which ones were occupied and which weren't.

Madison's smile widened. "You know what," she said suddenly, "it's totally none of my business." She turned on her heel, sauntering down the hall. "Have fun," she called over her shoulder.

Not knowing what to say, Misty simply darted into the room and quickly closed the door behind her. She crossed to the bed and changed with a vague sense of unease, the feeling not going away as she lay down under the covers.

After a little while, Delia finally came into the room. "Misty?" she called softly as she entered.

"I'm here," Misty answered, and saw a smile spread across Delia's lips.

The other woman went to her dresser and pulled out her pajamas. "I'm just going to change," she said, stepping towards the bathroom.

"Wait," Misty called, bringing to a halt, a quizzical look on her face. "Y-you can change in here, if you want. I'll turn off the lights, and I won't look."

Misty's heart pounded as Delia stayed silent for a moment. Then, she nodded.

Misty nearly lunged for the light switch to turn it off.

Despite her promise not to look, Misty couldn't help but stare as Delia slipped out of her dress, letting it pool on the floor. Her smooth back was bathed in muted moonlight, giving her a sense of ghostly, ethereal beauty. As Delia turned, though, Misty dropped her head, unable to shake the feeling that the other woman could see her looking.

She listened to the slither of fabric over Delia's skin, then heard her soft footsteps and felt the mattress dip as she climbed up.

"You can look now," Delia said, a slight laugh in her voice.

Misty rolled over, and Delia immediately claimed her lips in a kiss. However, she couldn't fully lose herself to the moment, and Delia could tell.

"What's wrong?" she asked, pulling back and smoothing Misty's hair away from her face.

Misty stayed silent for a minute, debating whether she should tell Delia about what had happened in the hall or lie. Eventually, she gave in, saying, "It's Madison. She saw me coming in here and I… I couldn't come up with a good enough excuse."

Delia cupped Misty's cheek, gently stroking her jaw. "That's a problem for another day," she said. "Right now, all I want is to kiss you, and hold you as we fall asleep together. Is that all right?"

In answer, Misty smiled and brought their lips together in a long, slow kiss.

As the night wore on, the two women lay together, swapping kisses and soft words, until they both were snoring softly, wrapped comfortably in each other's embrace.


	9. Chapter 9

Misty woke with a start, her hand flinging out to search the other side of the bed and finding it cold and empty. Her heart pounded from the remnants of her nightmare. She had been lost in the dark, hearing Delia screaming her name but unable to get to her, her legs crumbling into dust every time she tried to move them.

Suddenly, she heard Delia's voice calling the girls to get up, and realized that was what had woken her in the first place. She scrambled out of bed, hurriedly throwing on a dress and Stevie's shawl, then ran from Delia's room and down the stairs.

She met up with the other girls in the dining room, where the long table was completely bare save for four tall candlesticks. Myrtle lined them up along the opposite side of the table, one candlestick for each girl, and explained that they would be starting the Seven Wonders with telekinesis. Misty kept glancing at Delia out of the corner of her eye, trying to mimic the confident collectedness the witch seemed to be exuding. _Of all the trials to start out with_, she thought, _they had to pick the one I ain't any good at_.

As Kyle moved along the table, lighting the candles, Misty's worry finally became too much. "What if I can't do it?" she asked, her voice strained.

"Then you aren't the Supreme," Delia replied simply.

"And you can go back to your swamp," Madison added, unable to resist a dig.

Ignoring her, Myrtle said, "Misty, you're first."

Misty turned back to her candle, licking her dry lips. Lowering her hands to her sides, she stared at the candle, desperately willing it to move towards her.

"Intention," she heard Delia say, and was immediately transported back to their conversation in the greenhouse when they had made that foul-smelling goop to heal the plant. Remembering how her power had felt within her, she leaned forward onto the table, focusing on the candle and digging deep into herself until she felt the familiar swirl of magic. Suddenly, the candle slid across the table and into her hand.

"I did it. I did it!" she said breathlessly, blowing out the flame.

"Sounds like you want it," Madison commented.

"It's not about want," chided Delia, "You either are, or you aren't, a Supreme."

Misty grinned happily, caught up in the excitement of her success. "Maybe I am."

The rest of the girls summoned their own candles, blowing out their wicks one by one. The glow of her achievement quickly wore off as Misty saw how easily they brought the candlesticks to their hands, turning back to anxiety.

Then, they moved on to concilium, mind control. Misty was first again, up against Queenie.

"Stare all you want, flower child," she challenged, her arms crossed defiantly across her chest. "Nobody controls my mind but me."

After a second of concentration, Queenie's hand flew up and smacked her across the cheek. "Holy shit," she whispered, just as her hand came back to slap the opposite cheek. "Knock it out!" she yelled.

"This is fun," Misty said, making Queenie slap her cheek again, taking a perverse pleasure in making Queenie hit herself just like kids tried to make each other do.

Myrtle called for them to switch, and Misty immediately regretted her moment of childish fun. Queenie stood across the room, glaring at her, murder in her eyes and her hands on her hips.

Trying to smooth over the situation, Misty said, "No hard feelin's about –"

Before she could finish, she found her own hand in her hair. It grabbed a fistful of curls and pulled, drawing a pained string of "ow"s from Misty's lips.

Myrtle called for the next pair, and Misty's hand finally let go of her hair. Rubbing her scalp, she stalked to the doorway, scowling at Queenie across the room.

Zoe and Madison were up against each other, and before they were even in position, Misty could tell something was about to go down. Therefore, it wasn't a surprise when, instead of using her powers on Zoe, Madison decided to control Kyle's mind, making him kiss her then lick her boot, throwing in a couple of self-inflicted slaps to Zoe for good measure.

Looking at Delia's face, Misty could tell the older witch was entirely unimpressed.

In retaliation, Zoe used her powers to jerk Kyle away from Madison, bringing him over and kissing him herself. Something seemed to snap in Madison; she clenched her fist, forcing Kyle to close his own around Zoe's neck, choking her.

Almost nonchalantly, Delia waved her hand, sending Kyle flying away from Zoe. "Let's move on," she said.

As the sun was already setting, Myrtle decided they should perform descansum next. "The descent into the netherworld will be your next test," she told the girls as the lay in a circle on the floor, their heads facing inward. Delia sat off to the side, her patterned skirt draped across her knees. "Getting to Hell will be simple for girls of your talents. It's getting the getting back, darlings, that is the challenge. If your soul hasn't returned to your body by sunup, it will die." She sounded almost cheerful as she said it.

On the floor, Misty turned to Zoe and took her hand, her heart beating wildly in terror. "What do you think it'll be like?" she asked, striving to keep her voice steady, although she was sure the other girl could see the fear in her eyes.

"I was hoping to never find out," Zoe replied. Misty couldn't help but agree.

By the windows, Myrtle took hold of a large, ornamental hourglass and turned it over. As the white sand began to stream downwards, she announced, "Girls, you may begin."

Misty closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and releasing Zoe's hand. As one, the girls began chanting, their voices rising with every word, ending in a powerful shout. Misty felt herself leave her body, her head spinning as she fell through swirling darkness.

Pulling her hands away from the tray, she watched as the frog flipped over and gave a small croak, alive once more.

"Freak!" The voice of her tablemate made her jump. "Mr. Cringley, she did it again!"

She watched with a sinking dread as the teacher approached, as well as a sense of déjà vu. _This has happened before_… But then Mr. Cringley was forcing her scalpel down, into the frog's stomach, the blood bubbling up behind the blade. She screamed. Holding her hands over its lacerated skin, she poured her power into its tiny body.

Even as she pulled her hands away, she heard her classmate's shrill voice, and saw Mr. Cringley striding over. She heard her own voice begging him not to make her kill a living thing, but his hand was over hers, and her scalpel was piercing the frog's belly, and she was screaming.

Again and again she brought the frog back, and again and again her teacher forced her to take its life.

A sense of despair flooded her as she saw the blood spill once more. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew it was futile to resist, that the pattern would just keep repeating itself, but she felt helpless to stop her own hands as they rose to cover the jagged hole in the frog's chest.

Suddenly, she heard a voice, almost too faint to make out, that hadn't been there before. She couldn't pinpoint its source; it seemed to echo from all around her.

"Misty," it whispered. "Follow my voice. We are all here waiting for you."

She dropped her hands, looking around for who was talking. As she peered around the room, the voice grew louder, sounding close to her ear.

"Sequere lucem. Venite ad me," it said, and even though it was in Latin, Misty somehow understood. _Follow the light. Come to me_.

Suddenly, Misty noticed a bright white light in the corner of the room. She stood slowly, as if in a trance, and walked towards it. As she approached, she saw a familiar figure standing in the middle, her hand outstretched.

Misty reached out her own hand, tears leaking from her eyes. "Dee," she whispered as their fingers connected, and she felt a lurch as she was dragged into the light.

She sucked in a ragged gasp, bucking against the strong arms wrapped around her. They tightened spasmodically, and Misty leaned her head back, finding herself staring at the face of the woman who had saved her.

"Dee," she whispered again, drinking in the sight of the woman she loved.

"Misty," Dee sobbed, running her hand frantically over Misty's arm, her chest, her face. "Oh thank god, Misty, you're alive. My Misty. You're alive, you're alive…" she repeated, clutching Misty even tighter and peppering her face with kisses.

Misty laughed and returned as many kisses as she could, wrapping her own arms around Dee and twining her fingers in her hair. "I am," she said, "and it's all thanks to you. You saved me."

Dee pulled back, tracing her fingers down Misty's temple and along her jaw. "You heard me?" she whispered.

"I did. And I saw you. You were standin' in the light, like some kind of angel, beckonin' me home," Misty told her, running the back of fingers across her love's cheek. "And with a face like that, how could I say no?" she teased.

Letting out a choked laugh, Dee cupped her cheeks roughly, crashing their lips together in a desperate kiss.

They heard someone clear her throat behind them, and they sprang apart, both blushing furiously.

"Not that I'm not glad you two lesbos finally got together, 'cause I am, you guys just made me twenty bucks," Madison said in her usual crass manner, "but can we get on with the trials? I just want to become Supreme already."

"Yes, of course," Dee murmured.

Misty scrambled to her feet, pulling Dee up after her. "I'm out though," she said. When it seemed like Dee was going to protest, she put her finger to her lips, kissing them as she removed it. "I would have failed that trial, if you hadn't rescued me. That means I can't be the Supreme."

"She's right, you know," Madison chimed in.

If Dee could have rolled her eyes, she would have. Instead, she took Misty's hand, nodding her agreement.

Misty kissed her, relieved. If she was honest with herself, she didn't think she would have made a very good Supreme; the power and responsibility would have overwhelmed her. She would leave dealing with that to one of the other girls. Right now, she was just happy to be alive and in the arms of the woman she loved.

* * *

**A/N** : A huge thank you to NMartin for letting me use her signature nickname for Cordelia. I first read it in her fic The Fox and the Mist (you guys should check it out) and absolutely fell in love. So, thank you so much, NMartin!

Also, thank you to everyone who has followed and favorited and commented so far! You guys have been such an inspiration to me, and I hope you enjoy these last few chapters as I get them up.

Happy reading!


	10. Chapter 10

"The next task before our candidates is transmutation," Myrtle announced.

Almost before she finished, Zoe fazed out of her seat, appearing behind Madison's shoulder. "Tag, you're it," she whispered into her ear, and disappeared again.

Madison teleported over to Queenie, tapping her shoulder, and suddenly a game of supernatural tag was in full swing. Misty took Dee's elbow, leading her out to the porch, where she could monitor the girls.

"Careful, girls, it's not a game," she called.

"It's the best game, and we need a goddamn break," Madison called back, laughing.

Misty watched, grinning, as the girls as the girls zipped around the yard, squealing and laughing at their game. Her happiness abruptly turned to dismay, however, when Zoe appeared above their heads, an iron spike from the gate protruding from her chest.

Kyle screamed her name, sprinting down the front steps, as Myrtle sobbed in horror.

"What happened? What is it?" Dee demanded, taking the older witch by the arm.

"It's our dear Zoe," she choked out. Kyle continued to scream for help, frantic to save his girlfriend.

Dee gave Myrtle a little shake, trying to snap her out of her horrified stupor. "Myrtle, I can't see her. You have to get her down."

Myrtle blinked, nodding her head, and lifted a shaking hand. Zoe's body rose off the iron spike and floated down into Kyle's arms.

"Take her to the greenhouse," Dee instructed, taking a step down the stairs. Misty grabbed her elbow, helping her down, and together they hurried after Kyle to the backyard, the rest of the witches close behind.

Kyle kicked open the door to the greenhouse, rushing to the worktable and tenderly laying Zoe down. Misty could see that her chest had stopped moving; she was already dead.

"Vitalum vitalis," Dee whispered. Misty squeezed her hand, hope sparking in her chest. Her voice stronger, Dee repeated, "Vitalum vitalis." It was a way to continue the trials, as well as save Zoe's life.

Queenie immediately leaned over Zoe's body, softly breathing into her mouth. They waited in tense silence, but nothing happened.

"What's happening?" Kyle asked brokenly, pacing from side to side.

Queenie leaned back over, trying again, and again. "Please," she whispered, leaning her forehead against Zoe's bloodstained cheek.

"Guess who's not supreme?" Madison snarked.

Stepping back, Queenie looked around at the gathered witches, clearly distressed. "I'm sorry…" she said.

"Queenie, take Kyle into the house," Dee ordered, as it was obvious he could break down at any second. Turning to the only remaining candidate, she said, "Madison. The vitalum vitalis."

Madison merely cocked her eyebrows incredulously. "You want me to bring her back?"

"Do you think you can?" Dee ground out, her hands shaking. Misty wrapped both of hers around them, trying to stop their trembling. She was distressed about Zoe, too, wanting nothing more than to bring her back herself, but she knew she had to let Madison try first, as part of the trials.

"Oh, I know I can," Madison smirked.

"Then do it," Dee commanded.

Madison paused. "Would that make me Supreme?" she asked.

"It would mean we could continue with the Seven Wonders."

"Because she'd be back in the game."

"Just like _you_ were back in the game after you were brought back."

Madison narrowed her eyes, glaring at Dee, then Misty beside her.

"Unless you're afraid you might not really _be_ the Supreme," Dee challenged, in a last ditch effort to just make Madison do something.

As Madison stood in defiant silence, a fly buzzed in front of her face. Misty saw something glint in her eyes, then she clapped her hands around it, killing it. Dee's face went slack in surprise; she could tell Madison was not going to do what she wanted.

Madison opened her hands, showing Misty and Myrtle the dead fly, then closed them again. After a moment of concentration, she pulled her palms apart, and the revived fly whizzed away.

Letting out a hum of laughter, Madison cocked her head in triumph. "She lost, fair and square. It's not my fault."

"Madison, you refuse this, and you don't deserve to be Supreme."

The young witch laughed again. "What's 'deserve' got to do with any of this?" she demanded. "You can't disqualify me. Either I'm Supreme, or I'm not. And obviously I am. You know," she said, pacing down the table and wiping her palms, "I'm starting to think Fiona had the right idea. Leaving this shit-show behind. I'm thinking very seriously about doing the same thing." She reached out, prodding the gaping wound in Zoe's chest. "So either crown me, or kiss my ass," she snarled, and stalked from the room.

As soon as she left, Misty darted forward, laying her hands over the hole in Zoe's torso. As she closed her eyes to summon her magic, however, she felt a pair of gloved hands push her own aside.

Opening her eyes, she saw that they belonged to Myrtle. "No, dear, you mustn't interfere," she said softly. "If the other girls couldn't bring her back, we have to leave her. She died in the course of the Seven Wonders. There is nothing we can do."

"Yes there is!" Misty argued, her voice tight with unshed tears. "I can bring her back! I know I can; you both know I can! Dee brought me back!"

"Yes. Something almost completely unheard of," Myrtle replied, looking at Dee almost disapprovingly. The other woman stepped closer to Misty, grabbing her hand possessively. "But, since you immediately dropped out of the competition, I suppose no harm came of it," the redheaded witch sighed. "But there is nothing we can do for Zoe. She died while attempting the transmutation trial. Simply put, she failed. Death is a natural, if unfortunate, part of the Seven Wonders. She knew the risks. There is nothing we can do," she repeated again, to convince herself as much as the two witches across from her.

Misty went to take a step forward, to argue further, but Dee's hand in hers stopped her. She looked down to see the other woman shaking her head, and let her shoulders slump, defeated.

The three witches slowly made their way out of the greenhouse, passing Kyle as he came back in. Misty's heart ached for him.

They made their way into the living room, sitting at the long table at one end. Misty pulled her chair around the end of the table so she could be as close to Dee as possible. Zoe's death had made her realize how close she had come to losing the love of her life. She resolved to give Dee whatever she needed or wanted, for as long as they both lived.

Right, now that started with getting her something to drink. Dee was as white as a sheet, and looked like she could tip out of her chair at any second. "Do you want something? A glass of water?" Misty asked, gently touching Dee's shoulder. The woman nodded, her face turned away. Misty got to her feet, giving Dee a peck on the cheek as she rose, and made her way into the kitchen.

She grabbed a glass from the cabinet, filling it with water, and hurried back towards the living room, unwilling to be away from her love for too long. As she approached the door, however, she heard Dee's voice, and stopped out of sight beside the doorway.

"I can feel all their eyes on me," she heard the woman say, and knew she was referring to the cold painted eyes of the surrounding portraits. "I've failed. I let this coven fall into ruin."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Delia, you did all you could," Myrtle said.

"Not enough," Dee replied. She thought for a second, then continued. "If Madison Montgomery really is all that's left to us, maybe it is better this way. Maybe we deserve to die out."

"I'll confess, I've had similar dark thoughts," admitted Myrtle. "I was so certain about Misty Day, or even our dear Zoe. She had the makings of a fine leader."

They lapsed into silence again, and Misty was about to come out from her hiding place when Dee spoke up once more. "Oh, I can't believe she was right," she said. "It was Madison all this time. My mother was always right."

"That's not true," Myrtle objected. "She was never right about you."

"Well I guess it's different, when it's your own family," Dee answered wearily.

"How true is it, that a prophet is never recognized in his own country," Myrtle commented, and Misty peeked around the doorframe, beginning to understand what the older witch was saying. "Madison was not born to the Supremacy. But you, Cordelia, you have royal blood in your veins."

"What are you saying?" asked Dee, not comprehending the absolute rightness of what Myrtle was telling her.

"I was a fool not to have realized it earlier. Seeking all this time in the dust that which may have be right before us all along."

"I- I don't understand," Dee said. Misty wanted to shake her, to rattle the truth out of the depths of her subconscious. Couldn't she see she was the exact right person for the job?

"First you were suppressed by your mother, then by your own theories. You have great power, my girl. Power that has been seeing expression in these young vessels. But it's in you," Myrtle told her, her voice rising with emotion. "You must let it out. You must perform the Seven Wonders."

"You think I could be the next Supreme?" Dee asked tremulously, her voice low in shock.

"I'd stake your life on it," Myrtle asserted.

"I'd stake mine," Misty called, stepping out from behind the doorframe. Striding over, she set the glass down hard on the table, some of the water sloshing out. Ignoring it, she kneeled down in front of Dee, taking her hands from where they lay in her lap. "Don't you know by now? You are the most powerful witch in this house. I told you before you're an awesome leader," she said, remembering their day in the greenhouse, and how she had already known that someday Dee would eclipse them all. "Now it's time to show everyone else just how badass you really are."

At that, a tiny smile crept onto Dee's face. "All right," she decided. "I'll do it."

As the sun rose, Misty helped Myrtle set up the small table in the living room, clearing it of all its contents and placing a single candlestick in the center. She then took Dee's hand and led her to stand at the head. Myrtle had summoned the other girls, and Queenie was standing on one side, with Madison opposite to Dee. Misty took her place slightly behind and to the side of Dee, wanting to remain close without crowding her.

"I know what you guys are doing," Madison said. "You want me to finish the Seven Wonders, so you're trumping up some competition." She threw a contemptuous look at Dee, and Misty had to hold herself back from leaping across the table and smacking her. "I'm not stupid."

"Yes you are," dismissed Queenie, turning to Dee. "Are you ready?" she asked her.

A faint smile crossed Dee's lips, and she determinedly pulled off her sunglasses, exposing her blind eyes. Raising her hand, she held it over the candle. Her fingers trembled slightly as she concentrated, and a flame flickered to life on the wick beneath them.

As she drew her hand back, the logs in the fireplace burst into flame, and her smile grew to a grin. Behind her, Misty echoed her expression, clapping her hands softly and bouncing on her toes. Across the table, Madison just rolled her eyes.

The rest of trials flew by in a whirl of success. Misty giggled along with Dee as she made Queenie dance, and gasped in awe as she lifted the entire piano with her telekinesis. She had always known Dee was powerful, but to see her magic in its full force was a wonder to behold.

Finally, it was time for the trial Misty had been dreading the most: descansum. She knelt down beside Dee as she lay on the floor, smoothing her hair away from her face. "I'll be right here when you wake up," she said, trying to hide her worry but her voice shaking all the same.

"And I will. I will always come back to you," Dee promised, giving Misty's hand a squeeze.

Misty backed away, sniffling a bit, and let Dee get started. Myrtle overturned the hourglass and Dee began chanting, falling deathly silent when she had finished. Only the slight movement of her chest as she breathed let Misty know she was still alive.

That night was one of the longest Misty had ever lived. She spent the entire time pacing around the room, unable to get close to her love. Each time she tried, Myrtle shot her a look, and she was forced to resume her pacing.

As the sky lightened and the sand in the hourglass began to dwindle, Misty grew more and more panicked. Every second that Dee didn't wake increased the danger that she would get stuck in Hell, like Misty almost had. Misty crouched down, keeping her eyes trained on Dee's face as her own heartbeat grew faster and louder.

Finally, when there was less than an inch of sand left, Dee opened her eyes and jerked upright, gasping for air. Misty was the first to reach her, taking her in her arms as the other witches scrambled over.

"What did you see?" Myrtle asked as Misty stroked Dee's hair, trying to calm her frantic breathing.

"Me, trying to get Fiona's approval and getting bitch-slapped for it," she panted, then fazed out of Misty's arms. Misty looked around wildly until she heard her voice from the doorway. "Not exactly new," she said, standing there with her hands folded primly behind her back.

"Transmutation. That's five Wonders accomplished," Myrtle acclaimed. "Let us move to the sixth, divination. Cordelia?"

"Fine," Madison snapped, interrupting, "okay, I'm back in." Queenie let out a snort, and she immediately retorted, "What, it's only fair. This thing started as a competition, I say we should end it like one. Divination. Let's rock."

Dee simply smiled.

They moved back to the table as Myrtle went to fetch the supplies. "Hidden in this house are items belonging to former Supremes," she informed them as she reemerged, carrying a silver cup full of tiny pebbles that she spilled onto the tabletop. "Cordelia, divine in the pebbles the location of the item which belonged to Mimi DeLongpre," she instructed.

Dee leaned forward, lightly running her hands over the scattered stones.

"Who knew the test came in braille," Madison quipped, and Queenie shushed her.

Dee continued to feel the pebbles, until her hands swung back over a large clump, as if magnetized. "Southwest corner. Up the stairs, second door down the hall beneath the dresser," she relayed with absolute certainty.

The witches waited in tense silence as Queenie ran upstairs to retrieve the item. As she set it down on the table, Dee announced, "The antique brooch presented to Supreme Mimi DeLongpre on the night of the Great Ascension."

"Correct," Myrtle proclaimed, and Misty couldn't help but applaud out loud.

"Damn, that was amazin'," she whispered in Dee's ear as Madison recast the pebbles.

"It was, wasn't it," Dee whispered back, and they both giggled softly.

"Divine for us the location of the object belonging to Supreme Anna Leigh Leighton, Madison," Myrtle was directing.

Madison stared at the pebbles for a moment, then refused, calling the trail stupid and demanding to go bring Zoe back to life, touting the strength of her own powers.

"Fail," said Myrtle.

Madison immediately bent over the table and spread her hands over the stones, demanding that they wait. "The vase above the fireplace," she named.

Queenie went over and looked inside it, finding nothing. "Wrong," she said.

"The piano, I meant the piano, there's something in the thing," Madison backtracked.

Queenie checked, again finding nothing. "Girl, no."

Madison stalked over to the side table next to the couch, calling the trial bullshit and claiming it was rigged. "I never had a chance at running this shithole coven," she snapped, pulling a cigarette out of the holder and flicking futilely at her lighter, unable to get it to spark. Finally, she managed to get it lit, taking a long drag.

She started to stalk away, but turned back when Myrtle announced the end of her Seven Wonders. "I'm going back to Hollywood," she said, "where people are normal. And I suggest you change the locks, because when I tell TMZ everything, it won't be long before, torches, pitchforks, and Molotov cocktails become a real big part of your day." She spun away, stomping off down the hall. "Peace. Out!" she called over her shoulder, raising her cigarette in the air.

"Good riddance," Misty muttered as Queenie and Myrtle exchanged amused glances. Dee just sat at the table in contemplative silence. When Madison mentioned outing them to the media, Misty had seen her expression change, but couldn't figure out what it meant.

_Oh well_, she thought, _that's a worry for another day. Right now, we need to finish the Seven Wonders so Dee can become the rightful Supreme_.


	11. Important note!

Hey everyone! First off, thanks for all your follows, favorites, and reviews! They really keep me going on those days where I feel like I just can't get anything good down on paper :D

I'm posting this as a separate chapter because some distressing news has come to my attention. My friend on here, NMartin, has been receiving PMs from some of my readers accusing her of copying Cordelia's nickname, Dee, from me. In fact, it's the other way around! I found one of her stories, The Fox and the Mist, while browsing one day, saw her use that nickname, and immediately fell in love. When I was starting this story, I messaged her and asked her for permission to use it, and she very graciously said yes.

I already said all this in my author's note at the end of chapter 9, but maybe some people didn't see it or didn't pay attention to it. In any case, if any of you are messaging NMartin accusing her of copying the name from me, please stop. It was actually hers to begin with.

Thank you, and as always, happy reading!


	12. Chapter 11

Misty offered Dee her elbow as they made their way out to the greenhouse. Dee clasped it with both hands, her brow creasing anxiously. Misty knew that she was very apprehensive about this trial; not only would it complete the Wonders and make her Supreme, but it would also bring back Zoe, and maybe make her feel like she was actually doing some good for the coven.

The witches gathered around the worktable where Zoe still lay, watching with bated breath as Dee leaned over her body. Dee closed her eyes, drawing in a deep, steadying breath, summoning up her magic, then softly blew into Zoe's mouth.

At first, everything was still, and Misty could see Dee's face crumpling into despair. She leaned back over, her breath shaking as she tried again.

Suddenly, Zoe sucked in a drawn-out gasp and lurched off the tabletop. Dee looked down at her, then her eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed.

Misty lunged for her, catching her before she could hit the ground, and lowered them both carefully to the floor. "What's goin' on?" she asked desperately, clutching Dee's head to her chest and smoothing back her golden hair.

"The Great Ascension," Myrtle murmured reverently. "Now is when the power of the Supremacy works its magic, infusing its host with glowing vitality and strength."

"So she's gonna be alright?" Misty said, watching Dee's chest rise and fall with shallow breathes.

"More than all right, dear," Myrtle answered, almost giddy. "She'll be perfect."

Misty just looked back at Dee's face, unwilling to be convinced until her love was awake and moving. Waiting for her to regain consciousness, Misty held her head in her lap, running her fingers through her hair, leaning down occasionally to kiss her forehead and whisper, "I love you."

Finally, after what seemed like eternity but was really only a few minutes, Misty felt Dee stirring in her arms. Her heart thumping, she gazed at the woman's face, waiting for her eyes to open.

When they did, Misty caught a flash off warm brown, before Dee pulled away and climbed to her feet. She brought her hands to her face, staring at them, and Misty realized her eyes were healed. Dee pushed her hair back from her face, turning to look around her, reveling in her regained sight. An amazed smile spread across her lips as she spun in a circle, just looking at everything around her.

"Behold," announced Myrtle, her pride for Dee written across her face. "The one true Supreme."

Dee came to a stop facing Misty, a huge grin on her face. Misty's breath caught in her throat and tears sprung to her eyes. She had never seen anything so beautiful.

She sprung forward, grabbing Dee's arms and pulling her into a passionate kiss. Dee responded immediately, wrapping her arms around Misty's waist and drawing her closer, until every part of her was touching every part of Misty.

"I knew you were a leader, Dee," Misty whispered, resting her temple against her love's, her lips brushing the shell of her ear.

Dee laughed, pecking Misty on the mouth once more before drawing back. She looked around at the other witches, flushing as it dawned on her that their make-out session had had an audience.

"Um, yes," she said, clearing her throat. "I just wanted to… thank you, all of you, for supporting me through the trials…"

"It's us who should be thanking you," Zoe interrupted, smiling. "If it wasn't for you, I'd be dead and Madison'd be running this joint. You saved us, all of us. You really deserve to be Supreme."

Dee smiled sheepishly, looking around and catching Misty's eyes. Misty just nodded, her grin stretching across her face.

"I don't know about you guys," Queenie spoke up, "but I'm gonna crack open a bottle of bubbly and celebrate!"

Zoe cheered, but Dee shook her head. "Thank you girls, but I have something I need to take care of. You go on and celebrate without me, though."

Quickly, she turned and exited the greenhouse. Exchanging confused glances with the other girls, Misty chased after her, catching her by the arm in the yard.

"C'mon, Dee," she cajoled, spinning the woman back towards her. "It's not a party without the guest of honor. What's so important that it can't wait?"

Dee looked like she was going to refuse to answer, but changed her mind. "I had a thought, when Madison threatened to out us to the media," she said softly, leaning close to Misty. "What if that's not a bad thing? Our numbers are dwindling; we need new recruits. And what better way to get the word out than to expose witches as a whole?"

Misty paused, taking in Dee's proposal. "I think," she said slowly, as Dee watched her face, "that that's a great idea."

Dee's face lit up in excitement. "Really? Because I was a little worried about the risk, how the public might react…"

"Yeah, a really good idea," Misty spoke over Dee, stopping her from rambling. "But, an idea that can wait 'til tomorrow. Right now, we need to celebrate your coronation." Grabbing Dee's hand, she dragged her, laughing, into the kitchen to fetch the champagne to get their party started.

Cables and cords snaked through the halls as the pack of camera crewmen swarmed around the living room, setting up lights and cameras and making sure Dee and the interviewer looked their best. Misty had tried to stay close to her love, promising to stay out of the shot, but the foreman had shooed her away to watch with the other witches.

As the interview began, Misty sat cross-legged in front of the small screen, her eyes flicking between its image and the real figure of Dee, who she could still see through the doorway. She marveled at the absolute poise the woman possessed; she exuded a sense strength and security that could be felt even through the television. Misty knew that any girl who saw the broadcast would know she would be absolutely safe coming to Miss Robichaux's.

When the interview had finished and Dee had shaken hands with the interviewer, Misty bounded over and grabbed Dee's hands. "That was amazin'!" she said, making Dee grin. "You were amazin'. Before you know it, we're gonna have girls from all over knockin' at our door, mark my words."

"That's the plan," Dee responded, raising her eyebrows mischievously. She turned and pulled Misty towards her office, closing the door firmly behind them.

"What's wrong?" Misty asked when she saw that the smile had dropped from Dee's face.

"Nothing's wrong," Dee said, walking past Misty and leaning against her desk, her eyes bright. "In fact, everything is right. And it will be even more so, if you'll do something for me."

"You know I'd do anything for you," Misty replied, stepping forward and cupping Dee's cheeks. "Just name it."

Dee couldn't stop herself from grinning. "I want you to be on my Council," she told Misty, wrapping her hands around Misty's waist. "Queenie and Zoe, too, of course, they deserve it. But it wouldn't be the same without you."

Misty could only stand there in stunned silence. Dee wanted _her_, on the Council? "I don't know, Dee," she hesitated. "I ain't as powerful as Zoe or Queenie. They can do a lot more magic than me…"

Dee's smiled softened as she reached out to caress Misty's cheek. "Being on the Council isn't about knowing a lot of spells. Hell, Quentin wasn't even a witch! Being on the Council is about being fair, and compassionate, and just. It's about keeping order and helping young witches. And I don't know anyone who would be better at that than you."

"Do I have to wear clothes like Myrtle's?" Misty asked after a moment's thought, wrinkling her nose in mock disgust.

Dee laughed. "No. You can wear whatever you want."

"All right then. I'll do it," Misty said, grinning. Dee laughed again and threw her arms around Misty's shoulders, kissing her.

"Don't tell the others, though," Dee directed her. "I want to get everything sorted before I make it official."

"Okay," Misty agreed. "Now," she said in a lofty tone, drawing away from Dee and puffing out her chest. "As my first act as a Councilmember, I decree we should start preparin' this place for new arrivals,"

Dee pushed her lightly, rolling her eyes and giggling, but obediently turned back to her desk to begin getting it organized.

Just as Misty predicted, the applications poured in from every corner of the country. Dee set up a map on a corkboard behind her desk, using pushpins to show keep track of where each came from. In no time, clusters of red spread out across the board, filling the map with new witches.

Most days, Misty would spend her time with Dee in her office, sitting cross-legged on the desk, surrounded by files as she helped to sort through them, while Dee marked their location on her map. It was on such a day that the door opened unexpectedly and Myrtle entered.

"I'm so proud of you," she told Dee without preamble, startling both the witches already inside.

Dee smiled. "We need to discuss the Council," she said, turning back to the board and sticking it with more pins. "We've never had young witches on the Council, and Queenie and Zoe deserve an elevated role here at the school to set them apart. What do you think?"

"I would start by telling them that being an authority figure requires you to make hard, unpopular decisions for the greater good."

"They've matured so much I think they can handle it," Dee beamed.

"I was talking about you," Myrtle said flatly. Both Misty and Dee dropped what they were doing, looking at her.

"Me," Dee said skeptically, smiling. Misty, on the other hand, stopped smiling altogether, having a sinking feeling she understood where this conversation was going.

"You have every chance to be the greatest Supreme this coven has ever seen," Myrtle told Dee earnestly.

"Stop!" Dee insisted, putting out her hand and flushing.

"Delia, I have something to say, and your tasteful modesty is out of fashion, so knock it off," demanded Myrtle. Dee's smile started to fade. "Thanks to you, we're entering a new era. You've planted the seeds, but in order to reap their harvest, you have to clear the rot of the past." As she spoke, Myrtle moved farter into the room, approaching Dee. Misty watched from her spot on the desk with mounting apprehension.

"Myrtle," Dee said, "you know I love your metaphors, but I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Me," Myrtle blurted almost before she had even finished "I'm talking about me. We all know what happens to a witch who grievously harms another witch."

Dee's smile fell away completely as she realized the gravity of what Myrtle was advising. "I hope you're not suggesting…" She shook her head, unable to finish the sentence.

"I'm not suggesting. I'm insisting."

At Myrtle's words, Misty hopped off the table, coming around beside Dee and lightly laying a hand on her arm. Dee narrowed her eyes and shook her head again, unwilling to believe what Myrtle was saying.

"You want to be burned at the stake? Again?" she demanded, walking towards Myrtle, shrugging off Misty's touch.

"Want has nothing to do with it," Myrtle replied, her voice strained. "At the start of your glorious reign, the last thing you need is an Abscam, a Watergate. I killed, and I must pay for it. Now, before word leaks that you were tainted by my hubristic actions, however deserved,"

"Myrtle. Stop talking. I didn't hear this. I didn't." Dee went to turn away, but Myrtle stopped her.

"Listen to me, child," she said. "Now that you're in charge, my life's work is fulfilled. I've made many painful mistakes in my life. I want my death to have some meaning."

"No!" Dee nearly shouted. "No way. You were my mother. My true mother. Just as you promised you would be. And I can't do this without you." Misty could hear the tears in her voice.

"Stiff upper lip, my dear," Myrtle told her. "Everything you do or say ripples through the entire coven. You cannot be a hypocrite. I won't stand for it."

Dee shook her head, wiping away tears, but Misty could see she had already given in. She gave Myrtle the chance to change while they and the other girls did the same. They all met in the foyer, Myrtle now dressed in a flowing, bright red dress, with everyone else in their funeral blacks. Together, they walked out to the car.

The albino man who had driven Misty and Dee to the swamp, along with his companion, were already in the car, ready to go. They drove out to the gravel quarry in silence, Misty grasping Dee's hand as the woman looked out the window.

When they arrived, the men got their supplies out of the trunk, and they began their procession to the stake, Myrtle in the lead. The older witch climbed the steps with her head held high, somehow remaining proud even as the men tied her hands behind her back and splashed her with gasoline.

The girls arranged themselves in front of her, with Dee in front and Zoe and Queenie to the sides. Misty stood just behind Dee, staying close but not touching her, allowing her to deal with her grief in her own way.

The woman took a deep breath and began speaking. "In the absence of the Council, as reigning Supreme of this coven, I hereby decree," she said, her voice strained with unshed tears, "for the murders of our sister witch Cecily Pembrooke and our colleague Quentin Fleming, you, Myrtle Snow, are hereby sentenced to death by fire." She stumbled over Myrtle's name, almost unable to get it out.

"Delia, my sweet daughter," Myrtle said, "I have never been more proud."

"Any last words?" asked Dee, and Misty could see the pain her own words were causing her.

"Just one," Myrtle replied. Odd to the last, she cried out, "Balenciaga!"

Dee dipped her head, summoning the strength to do what came next. Taking a deep breath, she flung her hand out in front of her, causing flames to spring up on Myrtle's body.

As Myrtle's pained screams filled the air, Dee slowly lowered her arm, her shoulders shaking with sobs. Suddenly, she whirled around, throwing herself into Misty's arms. Misty clutched the weeping woman to her, knowing there was nothing she could do to ease her pain. She simply smoothed her hand up and down Dee's back, gently turning her away and leading her to the car.


	13. Chapter 12

The night of Myrtle's execution, Misty and Dee lay in bed together, Dee wrapped in Misty's arms as she sobbed into her chest, huge, wracking sobs of grief and sorrow. When she had finally cried out all her tears, they simply curled up together, talking about Myrtle. Dee told Misty about everything the older witch had done for her when she came to the Academy, how she had become Dee's mother, more than Fiona had ever been. In turn, Misty talked about how she had found Myrtle, and how the witch had saved her from being shot.

Gradually, Dee's words trailed off, until her head dropped onto Misty's shoulder, sound asleep. Misty tucked the blankets in snugly around them, then cuddled up next to her love, twining their bodies together as closely as possible.

In the morning, Dee acted remarkably put together. The only sign she had spent the night crying were her red-rimmed eyes. She went through the day acting as normally as possible, continuing to prepare for the new girls' arrival in just a few days. Every once and a while, she would stop what she was doing and turn away, the grief becoming too much. But Misty was always there with a gentle touch or soothing word to help her through.

Slowly, painfully, they made it through the week. Dee immersed herself in preparing for the expansion of the Academy, taking her last conversation with Myrtle to heart. In order to make her surrogate mother's death mean something, she vowed to make Miss Robichaux's the best it had ever been. Misty saw that it comforted her to still feel connected to Myrtle in this way, and by the end of the week she had started to smile again.

On the day of the new girls' arrival, Dee buzzed around the house like a queen bee, making sure everything was arranged. Misty trailed after her, smiling to herself at her love's antics.

As Dee walked through the upstairs hall for the third time that morning, checking to make sure the rooms were ready to receive occupants, Misty grabbed her arm and pulled her to a halt.

"The rooms're fine, darlin'," she assured, tucking a strand of hair behind Dee's ear and rubbing her arms. "Everythin' in here's polished to a shine. The girls are gonna love it."

Dee smiled, letting out a huge sigh. "You're right, I'm worrying too much."

"Although," Misty said mischievously, "there still is somethin' you need to worry about." She paused for dramatic effect, watching Dee's eyes widen in alarm and confusion. "Queenie and Zoe?" she prompted.

Dee gasped, bringing her hands to her mouth. "Oh my god, you're right. How could I have forgotten?" she said, hurrying off down the hall.

Misty followed, giggling softly. She heard the two younger witches in one of the front bedrooms, remarking on the horde of girls gathered outside the gate.

"Where are we gonna put all these girls?" Zoe asked incredulously.

"We'll buy more houses if we have to," Dee said, striding into the room. Misty stopped just outside the doorway, letting her hold this conversation alone.

"Look at you," the older witch said, approaching the younger ones. Queenie smiled at her, while Zoe looked at her with somber admiration. "You two are powerful witches, with more skills and confidence at your young age than I had for much of my life. I need both of you, to help fulfill the promise of all this coven can be. A place to protect, develop, and celebrate witches. You will not only be my right hands, you will be my Council." Zoe's face slackened in shock while Queenie's eyebrows rose up her forehead. Misty grinned in amusement at their reactions. "What do you say?" Dee asked with a laugh, holding out her hands.

Queenie was the first to tack one, smiling and promising, "I got'cha back."

"Good," Dee replied. Turning to Zoe, she inquired. "And you?"

"I'd be honored," she said, taking Dee's other hand and giving her a smile of her own. "Should we open the doors now?" she asked.

Misty saw Dee's shoulders tense. "Not yet," the woman said. "Stay here. There's just one more thing I need to deal with."

She turned to leave the room, and Misty could see how stiff her expression had become. As she walked towards the door, Misty stepped inside, her eyes questioning. Dee just shook her head.

"Stay here with the girls," she said softly. "I'll be right back I promise."

Misty searched her face, then nodded once, stepping aside and watching as Dee made her way down the hall.

Turning back into the room, she grinned at the two girls still inside. "So, I guess we're all Council members now, huh?"

"You're on the Council, too?" Zoe asked. "When did that happen?"

"Oh, uh, just out in the hall," Misty lied, remembering her promise to Dee not to tell anyone when she had really been put on the Council. "Dee wanted to tell you separately, 'cause she appreciates what y'all did for her by supportin' her and everythin'."

"Nah, she just wanted to tell you alone so she could kiss you when you said yes," Queenie asserted. Zoe let out a huff of incredulous laughter and elbowed her in the side. "What?" Queenie demanded.

Misty just laughed. "No, honestly, she does think real highly of you. She wanted to make sure you'd be respected by the other girls here at the school," she assured them.

"And we're very grateful to her for that, aren't we?" Zoe said, arching an eyebrow at Queenie.

"Of course I'm grateful!" insisted Queenie. "You know I was just teasing."

"Yeah, I know," Zoe smiled. Turning to Misty, she said, "Seriously though, we're glad you and Cordelia are together. You make each other happy."

Misty ducked her head, blushing. "She does make me happy. And I hope I make her happy, too."

The other girls smiled at her. "Trust me, you do," Queenie affirmed.

Suddenly, they heard movement at the door. The three witches spun to find Dee standing in the doorway, her hands folded formally in front of her. Misty could see from her bloodshot eyes that she had been crying.

"Girls, would you please wait for me downstairs?" she requested, her voice wavering slightly.

Queenie and Zoe glanced at each other, but respected Dee's demand and left the room. Misty went to follow them, but Dee caught her by the arm.

"Wait," she said tremulously. "I need you to stay with me."

"Always," Misty responded, sliding her hands around Dee's waist. Dee swayed slightly under her touch, so she guided her gently to sit on the bed, afraid she was going to collapse. "Dee, sweetheart, what's wrong? Who were you talkin' to that made you so upset?"

"It – it was my mother," Dee said quietly, swaying slightly.

"Dee, are you sure?" Misty asked, alarmed, afraid someone had done something to mess with the woman's mind. "It couldn't have been Fiona. You said she was dead. Did somebody do somethin' to you?"

"No," Dee snapped. "It was her. Her death was just a ruse. A clever trick to get me to reveal the next Supreme so she could kill her." Giving a decidedly humorless snort, she said, "Little did she suspect it would be her own daughter."

Misty gazed at Dee, realizing she was telling the truth. She hesitated before asking her next question, afraid she already knew the answer. "Where is she now?"

"Dead. For real this time. She died in my arms." Dee held them out, examining them as if they belonged to someone else. "I had the execution boys take her to the morgue to be cremated. She wouldn't have wanted her body moldering under the ground."

"Dee," Misty said softly, cupping the woman's cheek and gently turning her face until their eyes met. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Everyone's better off now that she's really gone," Dee told her.

"I know that. But like I said before, Fiona was your mama, and it's okay to be sad that she's gone."

"No," Dee said harshly. "I've mourned Fiona once. I'm not doing it again." Her face softened, and she continued, "I don't want to think about the past right now. I want to think about the future; the future that is in each one of those girls waiting outside our gates. It's time to let them in."

"Then let's do it," Misty said with determination. Dee smiled, getting up from the bed and striding along the hall and down the stairs. Misty followed close behind.

At the foot of the stairs, Zoe and Queenie were sitting and waiting. When they saw Dee coming down, they quickly got up, looking at her expectantly.

"All right," Dee said, pausing and letting out a long breath. "Let's open the doors."

They marched down the entryway as Kyle, now acting as the butler, opened the door. As the girls streamed in, Dee greeted each of them with a smile and a welcome. Misty just watched in silence, overwhelmed. All of these girls were going to become part of their coven? It was almost too much to think about.

After all of the girls had put their luggage in their rooms and gotten settled, Dee called them all together back in the entryway. Standing on the stairs, she gave them a brief history of Miss Robichaux's and its purpose. Misty stood on one side of the staircase, staring in awe at her powerful love as she spoke, while Queenie and Zoe stood on the other.

"We survived," she told the girls, referring to the coven that had taken ownership of the house. "Up until now, that's all we've done. But as I look at your faces – all of them beautiful, all of them perfect – I know, together, we can do more than survive. It's our time to thrive." As she finished talking, she looked down at Misty, love shining in her eyes. Misty knew Dee could see the same in hers.

"What's a Supreme?" asked one of the girls, drawing Dee's attention back to the crowd.

"You're looking at her," Queenie said.

A radiant, confident smile spread over Dee's face, and at that moment, Misty knew that from now on, everything was going to be just fine.


End file.
